The Sorceress's Heart
by Andwick
Summary: AU. The Sorceresses' Guild of Heian Kyo has its little rules, and even Sachiko must adhere to them. But where will she look for her new sister?
1. A Confusticating Puzzlement

Hello, everybody. My first time posting here. Sorry if it's a bit of a mess. This is an alternate universe, so if you don't like that, then et cetera. It's shoujo-ai/yuri, though it starts fairly slow, and there probably won't be anything to frighten the horses with for a little while. Rosa Chinensis beta'd this for me, and I'm enormously grateful to her.

Glossary of sorts. Soror mystica – you know, I'm not completely sure what that means. But the soror part means "sister" and I think the mystica part is cognate. A sort of "mystical girlfriend," I guess. Hototogisu – the Japanese name for a species of cuckoo, found in various other countries as well. Liana syrup – in the Heian era, shaved ice was already a big feature among Japanese desserts/snacks; stately homes often had ice-houses where ice would keep well into the summer months. Liana syrup was squeezed from a kind of vine, I believe, and used for sweetening. Sei Shonagon thought it tres elegant. Kotatsu – a table, low to the floor, Japanese style. Um, I think that's it for this time.

And, of course, I do not own Maria-sama ga Miteru. You may all have cause to be glad of that quite soon.

* * *

I. A Confusticating Puzzlement

Ogasawara Sachiko left the Sorceresses' Guild in high dudgeon.

When Ogasawara Sachiko, Dragon-level Sorceress of the Molting-Cranes, was in any sort of dudgeon, never mind a high one, there was really no way of knowing it unless you crossed her. She looked exactly the same as she did when her mood was peaceful. If you did even such a minor thing as get in her way, as an unsuspecting flower-girl did at this point...

"Flowers, your ladyship, only a penny the bunch –"

"Begone, wretched child! Trade your bloodsoaked flowers to the lepers in Hell's Ditch for a little rumpy-pumpy, and drown yourself in the mud of Tanner's Lane! May the many hells embrace –"

Sachiko found that she was yelling at nothing. The child had fled at the first roar.

On some level or other, she felt ashamed of herself. She didn't ordinarily use such language – her mother would have been horrified by that little outburst. But anyone, sorceress or otherwise, who has done business with sailors and dockhands tends to pick such things up, and she was too consumed with anger to pay it much mind. She strode on, little noticing what went on about her, certainly not seeing how the people who had crowded the street ahead of her were jumping to get out of her way. They were little more than grey blurs to her, even the big, stupid, stolid-looking carthorse which was shying away from her, its nostrils dilated and eyes rolling. It was pulling its cart toward the entrance of the Clockmakers' Guild – ignoring the curses and lashes from its confused master – in an effort to get out of Sachiko's way.

Her conversation with the Grand Mugwump of the Dragon Order had all but unseated her reason. She had almost resigned her commission on the spot. It was all the more irksome as the current Grand Mugwump was her former teacher, Mizuno Youko.

"You may not go to the Sun Gorge with the other Questioners, Ogasawara-kun, because you do not yet have a soror mystica, or even a simple famula," Youko-sama had said. "I have told you repeatedly that this is a matter you have to attend to if you wish to function as a full member of the Guild. I'm surprised, and a little annoyed, that you have raised the subject of the Questioning, knowing full well that you are still delinquent in this matter –"

"Why do I need such a thing?" Sachiko had asked, hearing and hating the faint hint of a whine in her own voice. It stung that Youko, her dear friend and teacher, had addressed her by her family name instead of the simple "Sachiko" she had always used. "I work best alone, you know that. Suga-sama doesn't have a soror mystica, and neither does Fujiwara-dono –"

"They are established sorceresses, and even they have servants, as you know full well. A sorceress of our stage cannot go without. There are always practical matters that need attending to, and a sorceress cannot do her best work if she is constantly strangling in mundanity, and it is your duty as a Dragon to start teaching a younger sorceress what you have learned from me. I'm going to have to find a new one of my own, you know. Now that you have advanced to Dragon-level sorcery, I can no longer claim you as my soror mystica. I have to go to all the bother of finding and training someone new, in these few days before the third month begins, or I can't go either. Why should you be exempt?"

"Youko-sama. Please. They all dread me. None of them wants to get near me!"

"At least in part because you keep only a few people near you, and push everyone else away. That is hardly my fault, or anyone's, other than your own."

"I do my best –"

"You simply have to learn to get on with people, Sachiko. You need a body-servant. Look you, what of your cousin there, Touko-chan? She's flapping around loose, since she made Ox-level. She needs a mistress, you need a soror, what could be simpler?"

"Touko is – a dear girl in many ways –" Sachiko was floundering. _Dear, mischievous, frustrating little Touko,_ she thought. _Charming in small doses, but as a constant companion, she would drive me mad very quickly._

"What other options have you? The question is not rhetorical. Examine your options. All of them. You will be excluded from this Questioning unless you find someone, and find her fast."

_Damn her,_ Sachiko thought bitterly. And quickly withdrew the thought, and said a countercurse. She needed to calm herself; anger could become an active agent all too easily, especially in the dreadful climate of these latter days. She wanted no harm to befall Youko-sama; she loved and admired Youko-sama. But Youko-sama was always pushing her into things she didn't want.

"That is my duty as your teacher," Youko-sama had told her, on one of the rare occasions when Sachiko had really complained. "You have too many requirements, Sachiko. You probably always will. Your friends can accommodate your requirements, up to a point. But I would not be doing my duty as your mistress if I did not encourage you to waive as many of them as possible. Your friends are on your side, but if you try conclusions with the world at large, you will lose."

_Well, we'll see about that,_ Sachiko thought grimly. A famula, eh? Well, then, a famula it would be. Any famula. Any warm body off the street. _Any one of these grey blurs will do the trick –_

She looked at one of the grey blurs, which took the form of a bedraggled, rag-clothed girl with a sweet face and wide, terrified eyes, quickly withdrawing an outstretched hand and backing away from Sachiko, banging her foot on a stone, stumbling, and running away up the street.

Sachiko watched her go, a bit crestfallen. _Perhaps it should wait until I'm in a better mood,_ she thought ruefully.

She was coming, more quickly than she liked, to the fifth ward of the great city of Heian Kyo. The Mountain Lily Inn, where she lived, was a few steps away. Now she had to face her roommates.

* * *

"I'm coming with you, Rei-chan," Yoshino-chan was saying stubbornly as Sachiko came into the second-floor suite they shared.

Hearing the tone of Yoshino-chan's voice, Sachiko tensed up. An old argument was playing itself out in a new guise, it seemed, at the kotatsu table in the middle of the common room. She would have to set aside her own troubles for the moment.

"Yoshino, sweet, you will receive treatment for your illness soon." Rei-san was using the pleading, adoring tone she used only with Yoshino-chan under Heaven. "It will take deep magic to restore your blood, and Fujiwara-dono said you would need to rest and prepare for a while, including much meditation. Let Noriko-chan come with me this time. Please? As a favor to me? You can accompany me on the Questioning next year. I'll insist upon it, in fact."

"I don't like that Noriko-san," Yoshino-chan said, her arms folded, glaring at the tabletop as if it had affronted her. "She's willful, and she's sure she's always right."

Rei-san was looking at her soror helplessly. The obvious response to this remark of Yoshino-chan's would only have made matters worse, of course. "Yoshino, my darling, I don't want to risk losing you when we're this close to..."

"Don't you try sweet-talking me!" Yoshino-chan shrieked. "I'm fly to your game! Keep up the mealy-mouthed fol-de-rol and I'll pop you one in the beezer!"

"But, my angel, my sweet sister..." Rei-san was near tears.

"Basta!" Yoshino-chan stood, her violet Ox-robes swirling angrily about her slender legs. "I'm eating out. I'm sleeping out, too! I'm never sharing a bed with you again, you _stinker_!"

"Baby pie!" Rei-san cried, distraught. But Yoshino-chan had stormed out, brushing past Sachiko without so much as glancing at her.

Sachiko stood where she was, looking at Hasekura Rei-san, her mouth slightly open. She never knew what to say at times like this. She liked Rei-san and Yoshino-chan very much, but they were terribly passionate. Whether they were pleased with each other or displeased, everybody in earshot knew about it.

Rei-san, having half-risen, slumped back in her place at the kotatsu, seemingly unable to move. Her proud, lovely face was sagging in sorrow.

Satou Sei-san, drinking rice-wine in the corner by the sliding windows, did not bother to restrain her laughter.

"You great bitch," Rei-san complained. "A true friend wouldn't laugh at my predicament!"

"A cat would laugh at your predicament," Satou-san averred, still chuckling. "A well-mannered, graceful friend like the Ogasawara over there would keep her laughter down in her belly where it couldn't bruise your flower-like feelings, but the laughter would be there all the same."

All Sachiko was hiding in her belly at the moment was a revolted grimace. Satou-san could say the most dreadful things. It was appalling. (A mental image of a little girl holding a mass of wilted flowers flashed across her consciousness, for some reason. She shook her head slightly.) "Satou-san, Rei-san might be best pleased if we were to help her with her problem or, failing that, leave it alone."

"I'm of the same mind as you! For once! What an astonishing turn of events!" Satou-san's good humor was irrepressible, more was the pity. Her amusement seemed to blossom as she stood, walking with her very slight limp to where Rei was seated at the kotatsu. The faint scar on Satou-san's right cheek became fainter when she smiled, but always spoke her for what she was: a ruffian in Western tunic-and-hose, a scofflaw, a hedge wizard with an invisible degree in rough-and-tumble. "Your wisdom never ceases to amaze, Sachiko old bean."

"Please do not call me an old bean," Sachiko requested calmly.

"And I am trying to help you, Rei-Rei," Satou-san went on, as if Sachiko had never spoken. "Honest and for true I am. I'm just going about it differently to how Sachiko would. Here's the problem, old sport, old swordmain, old wallowcrops –"

"I never understand that gaijin lingo of yours, Sei," Rei-san complained. "You've even got Yoshino speaking it now. It drives me mad."

"I'll drop the dialect humor, then, and come to the point. You're a _dishrag_, Rei."

"Curb your insolent tongue!" Rei-san leapt to her feet, her right hand reaching across to her sword's pommel –

– and quick as a wink, Satou-san's hand was on that same pommel, forestalling her. "I wouldn't, Lightning, if I was you." Her smile had somewhat faded, but was still strong, and something harder. "Remember what happened last time you challenged me to a duel?"

It was plain from Rei-san's face that she did remember, and that remembering liked her not.

Sachiko stepped briskly between them, facing Rei-san. "Rei-san, please be at peace. Do not be so quick to avenge yourself against one who knows no better."

"I bleed from fifty-seven wounds," Satou-san said happily.

Rei-san's face was stubborn. "She called me –"

And then Satou-san spoke roughly, with violence enough to startle the two out of speech: "I called you a dishrag, General, and a dishrag you are. Hear me, only a little, sweet playmate. I beat you when we fought, and you found that humiliating. But did you know that you came closer to beating me than any other swordmain ever has?"

"You never said that before."

"It's God's truth!" Satou-san spread her arms, her scarred face wearing that innocent look they knew so well and so warily. "And nothing but! You are tough. I've seen you go fifteen rounds against a far more seasoned opponent, and still wear that little smile of yours when you finally lost on points. I've seen you march ten miles a day like a soldier, and then laugh and tell jokes in the moonlight, singing like a hototogisu. I admire you greatly, my young nut. But you have a weak spot, and its name is Yoshino. You melt into liana syrup just at the sight of her. Which even I can understand. She's a dainty little bit."

Rei-san stirred a little, and Sachiko laid a hand on her wrist and gave her a pleading look.

"But if you can't be stronger with her, she's going to run roughshod over you your whole life, and she'll curse your weakness at the end of it. She may have been born with a weak chest, but in many ways she was stronger at birth than you'll ever be on your best damned day. You savvy?"

Rei-san's face had changed. Satou-san's words seemed to have hit home. Sachiko half-turned on the spot, and gave Satou-san a considering look.

"I 'savvy,'" Rei-san said. "What do you suggest –"

"No," Satou-san interrupted her. "No suggestions. You wouldn't trust any suggestion of mine, any road; I know it well." The good humor had returned to her face. "You should think about it some, decide for yourself what's best to do."

"Don't you think I've done that?" Rei-san's torment sang out clear as a flute; thankfully only her friends could hear. "I love her. So much... I've protected her all my life –"

"And, weak-chested but strong-willed, she hates being protected. By the bye, the sky is blue, and that color the rice paddies are is called 'green.'"

"But she's ill! She can't protect herself!"

"Which only makes her hate it more. Do you understand her so little? I understood so much about her within five minutes of knowing her. And she's not my soror mystica. Sachiko, honey, do you think I'm wrong? Mad? A fool?"

"Please don't call me 'honey,'" said Sachiko quietly, "and I've thought more than once that you may be mad. You are lost to all standards of decent behavior."

"My blushes," said Satou-san.

"But I don't think you're wrong," Sachiko added. "And I certainly don't think you're a fool."

Satou-san's smile faltered.

Rei-san was nodding. "I see. I see." She sighed, and slipped out of the fighting stance she had adopted upon rising. "I see. She'll probably be at the market. Excuse me, colleagues."

"Come back safely," said Sachiko.

Rei-san slipped out.

Sachiko looked at Satou-san. "Did I say the wrong thing, just now? You looked...disturbed."

"No," Satou-san said calmly, stroking her throat. "I think that's the first time you've ever paid me a compliment. That's all."

"I think highly of you, Satou-san. We have done good work together. I...I trust you to do what's right, when things are serious, if not at any other time. It's just that you're utterly impossible at those other times."

"I am impossible, or at least highly implausible," said Satou-san serenely. "You're not the first to say so... Thanks for the vote of confidence. It's so novel for anyone to express any confidence in me that I may even try to live up to it, just to preserve all that sweet innocent faith of yours."

"Am I truly innocent, Satou-san?"

"You worry about that? You're less innocent than you were when we met. You know the world a little better by now."

"You are one who has helped me know it." Sachiko had to acknowledge it.

"Another reason for you to be madly in love with me."

"I'm not – really, Satou-san –" Sachiko blushed and stepped back a bit, hating herself for it.

"I know you're not." Satou-san's voice was quite serious all a-sudden, and that made Sachiko look her directly in the eye. "And you can call me Sei, you know, with no fear of rape. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and though you're not exactly likeable on first acquaintance, you do grow on me. But as a bedfellow? I wouldn't dream of approaching you."

"Why not?" The subject made Sachiko uncomfortable, which was why she found it necessary to push her friend. She couldn't back down from a challenge. That was in her blood.

"Because we're too much alike."

"I'm sorry?"

"Congratulations! You managed not to sound affronted. A triumph, sweeting. I know how different we are. You come from one of the most powerful families in the land – only the Fujiwaras and the Kashiwagis are more powerful – and I'm an implausible jumped-up paddy girl who can only rub shoulders with you because we both have magical talent, and were scouted by the Guild. I'm as common as mud. Our backgrounds are nothing alike.

"But we're both proud, solitary types. We both prefer to go it alone. Maybe our reasons are different. We seem to be well enough as friends, at least so far. But if we became lovers, I think we'd be taking chunks out of each other's flesh in almost no time. Do you know?"

"I think I do. Satou-san – Sei-san – I mean no offense in the world, but why? I mean, why are you like that? It's...well, it's abnormal..."

"What, women loving women? Abnormal? Oh, surely not. Unusual, certainly, though perhaps not as unusual as you think. But remember who your friends are: me, who all the little girls run from, giggling and blushing? And Rei and Yoshino, who are so utterly besotted with one another that no man has a chance? If you really think it's abnormal, you've come to the wrong shop. And dubious though you are about our ways, you're comfortable living with us, aren't you?" That maddening smile. "Maybe you should think about why that is. Just a thought, my popkin." Sei started for the door. "I'm eating out. Drinking out, too. Don't wait up."

"Please don't call me 'popkin,'" Sachiko sighed. "Come back safely, Sei-san. Sei-san?"

"Yes?" She had turned at the door and stood expectant.

"Has there never been anyone who could melt _you_ into liana syrup?"

Satou-san stared for a moment, then smiled again, bugging her eyes madly. "_I'll_ never tell," she said. And she was gone.

* * *

The innkeeper, Goben-san, sent up dinner for one. The girl who brought it – Miyo-san, Goben-san's middle daughter – made eyes at Sachiko. Sachiko put her off as pleasantly as possible.

_Because I live with Sei-san and Rei-san and Yoshino-chan, they all think I'm a deviant as well,_ she thought.

_But am I?_

She thought of what Sei-san had said. She looked at the girl: pouring the tea, chattering on in a friendly yet respectful way about her pet bird, who was very silly. She looked at the girl's bare arms and at the parts of her legs that showed below her robes and above her socks.

She tried to imagine it.

She found it not all that hard to imagine, in fact.

Well, she had no actual yearning for the girl. As such. The girl was pretty, and clean. She seemed lively enough. All it boiled down to was, if it were necessary, for some reason, Sachiko thought she would be able to manage.

Her thoughts went on through dinner, interrupted her after-dinner studies, and followed her to bed, much along these lines:

Had she ever yearned?

Once. But he was a man. And her yearning for him had long since become the opposite.

Had she ever yearned for any woman?

_This is not a profitable line of inquiry._

_Well, what sort of profit were we looking for, from a line of inquiry after all? Have you?_

Well...she wasn't sure if it was a yearning exactly, but if she were honest with herself – a thing she'd been trying lately, with varied success – honestly, if Youko-sama had ever asked for her favors, she would have granted them gladly, without argument. She loved Youko-sama, and had slept in her tent on Questionings and other excursions, and had always been happy to do so. In some ways, she was closer to Youko-sama than to anyone. But Youko-sama had never so much as suggested it. She didn't know if Youko-sama's tastes even ran that way.

Had that disappointed her?

She spent so little time examining her feelings, she really didn't know. She had escaped the joyless silence of her family home, but seemed still to carry it with her, which discontented her. She had so far escaped the loveless, yet emotionally complex – if not actively unpleasant – marriage that had been planned for her, but it tended to loom whenever her parents wrote to her, which was often. But she had decisively escaped a milieu where everyone was interested in things that bored her to tears: gallantries and poems and choosing the right color paper to write a letter to someone you didn't much want to write to, or speak to, if it came to that.

She had escaped a world where putting on perfume was an art form.

Not everything about that world had bored her so terribly, but she had been unable to help thinking from time to time that there really must be more to life than this.

And more she had found. If all she'd found had been an unaccountable if usually benevolent friend called Sei-san, her quest would still have been a resounding success. But she had found much more, of course. Dear Rei-san and Yoshino-chan, and dear Youko-sama, and her own power, a power she had been told would only get more formidable as she got older. She had found a world that challenged her, and frightened her at times, perhaps, but nevertheless one she did not want to leave, especially not to marry _him_.

_So when you thought of resigning, you were fooling no one, of course. You must find a famula, at least, as Youko-sama said. Preferably tomorrow._

Yes, but where?

She had retired for the night. It was dark. She had heard Rei-san and Yoshino-chan come in, around the hour of the Boar, still grousing at one another. She had heard Sei-san and someone else stumble in not long after, with much stifled hilarity. Unhappily Sachiko's was the middle chamber, and she could hear everything that happened in the two chambers on either side of hers: Rei-san's and Yoshino-chan's bitter if relatively low-key argument in the one, and Sei-san's chuckling and facetious inquiries mingled with her companion's giggling and assorted happy noises in the other. This was distracting but in a way comforting: they had come to seem the sounds of home to her.

Sleep finally stilled both sets of sound, but could not still her thoughts, it appeared.

* * *

Not long after the distant temple bell had sounded the hour of the Rat, Sachiko's latest fitful attempt to sleep was interrupted by a soft scraping against the paper door that led out to the little verandah.

Sachiko went quiet, listening. She was lying facing that very door, and she opened her eyes to slits so as to observe.

It was a cloudy night, and there weren't many lights in that direction, but she could just make out a shadow. Not a detailed one, but it seemed clear that the shadow was trying to gain entry.

She waited.

The door slid slowly, painfully open. She heard little gasps of dismay from her intruder whenever the door made a noise louder than a slither.

Clearly a rank amateur, and no magical knowledge, or it would have been the simplest thing in the world to muffle the noise of entry. So Sachiko already had two advantages.

The door was opened wide enough at last, and the intruder intruded. More visible now. Small. Clearly smaller than Sachiko. Not graceless, but not confident in his movements either. Turned his head this way and that. Looked long at Sachiko lying there, and actually let out a whimper.

_You don't even have anything to whimper about yet,_ Sachiko thought. _Just turn your back, and you will. My cabinet is right over there. If you're planning to rob me, that's where my valuables are likely to be. Not a difficult inference, is it, even for a first-time cat burglar? Go on. The cabinet. Go on, now –_

The intruder obliged at last.

Sachiko said a very ugly word with a lot of spit in it, one of the words she could pronounce to perfection, and a fluttering dark red light burst out of her right hand, filling the room, and Sachiko roared "Who goes there?"

The intruder let out a high-pitched scream and fell to the floor as if struck. He had lost all his nerve at this one blow; he scrabbled across the floor to the far corner by the cabinet, away from the door he'd come in through. He huddled there, trembling and whimpering and sobbing and saying broken words of entreaty Sachiko couldn't make out at all.

She had risen from her pallet and stood over her prisoner, glaring at him. She moved her blazing hand a little closer to him (he positively keened and quaked) so as to get a good look at his face –

And did not see the face of a boy, as she had expected, but rather the grimy, terrified face of a girl she had last seen hobbling away from her up the street that afternoon, as fast as her stone-bruised foot would carry her.


	2. A Suitable Companion?

Here we are again. To those who reviewed, and those who subscribed, my thanks, and I'm sorry about the wait. I'll try not to make you wait so long for the next one. And thanks again to Rosa Chinensis for her beta.

Nothing to add, really, this time, except the note at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

II. A Suitable Companion?

Sachiko's first thought – right after _It's a girl_ – was _She's crying. She mustn't do that._

She didn't wonder about that until later.

The girl was plainly scared out of her wits. She thought Sachiko was about to kill her, or perhaps eat her.

The light from Sachiko's hand changed from dark red to light blue, and then winked out.

The door to the common room slid open, and there were Rei-san and Sei-san, swords drawn. Yoshino-chan was just behind them, her hand issuing a subdued white light. "What is it, Sachiko?" Rei-san demanded. "A thief? A murderer?" She moved forward and held her sword over the thief's head. "I charge you, speak!"

The girl squealed, and Sachiko cried sharply, "Stop, Rei-san! That's enough!"

Rei-san lowered her sword, looking confused. "Sachiko?"

"I mean...thank you, Rei-san. Thank you, Sei-san and Yoshino-san. For coming to my aid." She looked at each of them in turn and felt completely foolish for some reason. "But I don't think she's dangerous."

"She's a guttersnipe," Rei-san said. "One of these foul, strange denizens of –"

"Yes, all very familiar," Sei-san said archly. She sheathed her sword.

"Sei!" Rei-san was growing more bewildered by the minute.

"Sachiko is right, Rei," Sei-san sighed. "Look at the girl. She couldn't hurt a fly. Wouldn't, if she could."

"What's happening, Sei?" said a naked girl who was peering around the door.

"Just a collision of worlds, sweetheart," said Sei-san without turning. "Nothing to be concerned about. Go on back to bed. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The girl simpered at Sei-san's back, and disappeared.

Sachiko found that she had been staring at the naked girl. She was getting a look from Sei-san, a raised eyebrow and a faint, sardonic smile. Blushing, Sachiko turned back to her thief, knelt, and held out a hand to her. She became aware of the girl's smell, a sharp, hot stink. Her lip began to curl in revulsion, but when the girl just looked at the hand with those big, heartbreaking eyes, Sachiko's revulsion evaporated.

"Fire?..." the girl whispered, shrinking a little more.

"No fire on it this time," Sachiko said softly. "I won't hurt you. Did someone send you?"

"Send her?" Rei-san asked.

"She was scared just opening the door," Sachiko said absently, not breaking eye contact with the girl, "and she didn't seem to know what she was doing. Are there people waiting for you outside?"

The girl stared at her, then nodded.

Sachiko heard Sei-san draw her sword again. "Come on, Rei," she said pleasantly. "The noise and light could have frightened them off, but if Fortune be our lady, we might just get to fight someone after all."

"Under the eaves of the empty house," Sachiko's little thief said, unexpectedly. "Across the street." Her voice trembled a little, but she got the words out.

Rei-san gave her a measuring look, and then said, "We'll see."

Rei-san, Sei-san, and Yoshino-chan left the chamber. There was some only partly muffled argument in the common room about whether Yoshino-chan was going along. Sachiko didn't hear the end of it, but assumed Yoshino-chan had won.

Her attention was taken up by the would-be thief in front of her.

The girl was dressed in the same ragged get-up Sachiko had seen her in earlier that day. This covered her torso but left her legs and arms free. The rags were dirty and the girl was dirty, all over. Her tears had left tracks on her cheeks. She was skinny, and small, and her age was difficult to guess; Sachiko thought she might be no younger than ten and no older than twenty. Her hair might have been brown. It was matted and filthy. But the filthiest thing about her were her feet, which were bare. She was altogether as benighted, unbeautified and unprepossessing an object as Sachiko had ever seen.

A few short years ago, before she'd left her father's house, she would have turned away from such a creature without more ado. But things had happened to her since then. "I hope I did not frighten you too badly," Sachiko said stiffly. "I thought you meant me some evil. I see now that wasn't so. You're not hurt, are you?"

"I don't...think so," the girl said. She wasn't cringing any more. She just lay curled there in the corner, gazing at Sachiko.

"I have some questions for you. I want you to answer truthfully. I saw you in the street today, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Why did you come up to me?"

"Well," the girl stuttered, "y-you were so beautiful, I mean you are, and I thought anyone that beautiful must be kind as well, so I was going to ask you for a copper or two. But you looked at me with a demon's eyes and I ran."

"Oh." A demon's eyes. _Yes. Youko-sama has told me time and again, I must learn to rule my temper._ "What did you want money for?"

The girl was quiet for a moment, then she looked down and said: "I was hungry."

"Look at me, please. Did you follow me here?"

"N-no!" The girl jumped. "When I realized it was you, I, I almost ran right then."

That had been a _surprised_ whimper, then. "Some people sent you up here to steal from me?"

"Yes. Older men. I don't know them."

"Gentlemen?"

"N-not really. One of them seemed like he might have been, once. But the other two talked flash."

"Why did you agree to help them?"

"I was hungry." The girl was looking directly at Sachiko this time.

Sachiko sat there and looked back at her. She knew something of privation and hardship from her travels away from Heian Kyo and the sheltered world of the Good People. But she had never, so far as she could recall, missed a meal. Sometimes the meal had been scanty and cold, but there had always been something. She not only couldn't imagine what it would be like to go to bed hungry, she had never tried to imagine it. Here was a girl for whom it was apparently a regular occurrence and suddenly, for some reason, Sachiko was trying.

The silence stretched a little too long, and the girl began to tremble again. "Stop trembling," Sachiko said irritably.

"Yes, my lady," the girl quavered. The trembling lessened, but the girl couldn't seem to stop altogether.

Sachiko sighed. Her brain had been extremely active since she had first seen the girl's face, but in fact she was of two minds about what was best to do. All she was sure of was that she couldn't keep thinking of her as "the girl." "Have you a name?" she said at last.

"Yumi," the girl said.

"Yumi..." Sachiko said, trying it out. "Family name?"

"Don't have one," Yumi mumbled.

"Are you sure of that?" Sachiko said sharply.

"Don't remember..." Yumi was staring at the floor.

"You don't remember your family name?"

"Don't remember anything."

There was pain in her voice. Was it painful to remember her past, or did she not remember her past, and was that the source of her pain? _Well..._ Sachiko sighed again. There was always more to learn, it seemed. "Well, Yumi, if you're hungry, and don't mind eating cold leftovers... I didn't finish my dinner. Would you like to sample it?"

* * *

Night in Heian Kyo, a city at least half burnt wilderland and waste, was a difficult proposition. Due to a lackadaisical city government, it was rather on the lawless side, for a settlement of its size. Such constabularies as the city did have were ill-manned and ill-equipped, and seemed always to be a step or three behind the local banditry. On a cloudy night such as tonight, there were no moon and stars to light one's way, only a few lamps and torch fires dotted here and there – none of the aristocracy, who lived in the Nine-fold Enclosure in the northernmost ward, would dream of setting foot out in the city at night, and especially not a dark and terrible night such as tonight, for fear of running afoul of the criminal element.

Even Tsujimoto and his comrades, Shinji-kun and Ichiki-san, didn't much care for it, and they were _of_ the criminal element. Tsujimoto liked it less than his friends did, perhaps, having been born in the Nine-Fold Enclosure himself.

Yes, he was a son of the aristocracy, now fallen on hard times. How fleeting fortune! Unfortunately the night was cloudy and the season cool if not cold, so he couldn't muse rhapsodically on moonlight through the pine branches and fireflies at the bottom of the garden. There wasn't even a garden. Nature was not in harmony with his sadness for things past and gone, beyond recall. He shed a few bitter tears, and wiped them away, sniffing loudly, ignoring his companions' turned heads.

He had been banished from the court for a silly, childish intrigue which he blushed now to recall – or rather, flushed red with anger to recall. _Everyone does it,_ he would mutter, whether alone or in company; _everyone does it, but _I_ was caught by this damned girl and made an example of by the damned Dowager Empress, and now look! Tsujimoto no Fujito, cousin to emperors, lives in the filth of the southwest quarter, and spends his days trying to improve his financial luck at the expense of others around the Rasho Mon. But now I have a plan – a plan –_ his brain had lately seized on this plan. And now he was putting the plan into execution...

He was still miffed at Ichiki-san and Shinji-kun. They were more experienced than he, and one of them would have been better for this than he or the girl, from a practical point of view. But they had refused point-blank – wouldn't be caught fooling about in a sorceress's room at night – weren't being paid enough to dangle their goolies over an active volcano – pair of sillies. Tsujimoto had grown up around sorceresses, and their sorcery was all gammon, insubstantial froth, as far as he'd been able to make out – they were good at ceremonial, and they could make quite a pretty light-show to reflect in the water at a lake-party, but their clothes choices were drab; for perfume they stuck with calendula – an effective if unadventurous choice – and their poetic skills were frankly piss – not one good metaphor to rub against another. And to top it off they were unnatural creatures – women who had left their womanhood behind.

But in spite of his contempt, he was alarmed and unnerved when the dark red light blazed out through the shutters of the second-story room, and the scream rose, and cut off –

He wasn't as alarmed and unnerved as Shinji-kun and Ichiki-san, however. In the dimness, he could make out the shaking of their legs and arms, and he heard their low moans. They had drawn their swords, but had difficulty holding them steady.

"Time to go, Tsuji-sama," Shinji-kun quavered.

"What? Why? Our girl may have met with a setback, but –"

"She'll be dead," said Ichiki-san.

"Nonsense!" Tsujimoto snapped.

There was silence for a moment, then Shinji-kun said, "So the red light and the scream were just..." He trailed off.

"The sorceress offering her dinner, maybe?" Ichiki-san finished for him.

"Absurd. Still...shit. You may be right. Shit. But let's give her a few minutes, just in case."

"But, Tsuji-sama –"

"You agreed with me she was lucky!"

Shinji-kun fell silent.

Ichiki-san said, "Tsuji-sama, luck will only take you so far. She's been discovered. It's time to cut our losses and run."

"And all we'll have accomplished will be to put the sorceress on her guard. Maybe she'll hide the object so it's that much harder to steal. Come on, Ich, you're always saying how commoners are so much cleverer than we bumbling aristocrats –"

"Not the sorceresses, sir –"

Shinji-kun found his tongue again. "You might trick a sorceress, if you're very clever and very lucky, but if she rumbles you, you're her dinner."

"It's worse than being used as a snotrag by a bear."

"It's worse than being thrown in a mudhole with an amorous walrus."

"It's almost as bad as having thirty-seven hornets in your trousers." (1)

"You have _made_ your _point_." Tsujimoto allowed an edge of impatience to creep into his voice. "Just a few minutes and we'll go."

They were shuffling from foot to foot. "If she is alive," Shinji-san whimpered, "she'll have talked. They'll know we're down here..."

Tsujimoto was torn between the luck he'd glimpsed today in a filthy young girl's avoidance of death and the hope of mending his fortunes on the one hand, and the dawning suspicion that his henchmen may be right, and that they were fairly tough, hard men, and probably wouldn't be shaking like that unless they had very good reason to be afraid on the other. All that was really holding him in that spot was stubbornness –

– and then a sword came out of the dark to try and help his stubbornness.

Tsujimoto shrieked – he hadn't drawn yet –

But then a sword came to parry the attack – Shinji-kun's or Ichiki-san's; Tsujimoto never did find out which it was.

The next few moments were noisy and confusing. Tsujimoto was not a skilled swordsman – it wasn't something aristocratic young gentlemen such as himself dirtied their hands with, as a rule. He tried to fall back, to give Shinji-kun and Ichiki-san more room to work. Then, before he knew it, the clanging of metal had mixed with startled, pained cries and a shriek of rage, and there was a terrible light, in which he could make out very little, what with sudden blindness. Ichiki-san was falling back into his arms. Shinji-kun was running to Ichiki-san, his loose tunic torn and flapping in the queer light. Without prior consultation or thought, they took either of Ichiki-san's arms and ran with him dragging between them, cutting their losses at last...

* * *

Yumi sat there at the kotatsu and just stared at the food for a moment. Sachiko sat to her left, and slightly behind her.

"Eat, Yumi," she prodded, as Yumi seemed to have difficulty believing the food was really for her. It was only a little rice, and fish, and half of a roll. To Sachiko. To Yumi, it suddenly occurred to Sachiko, it might seem like a lot.

Yumi started picking up rice with her fingers and cramming it into her mouth.

"Chopsticks!" Sachiko said, a little too loudly.

Yumi jumped, and rice fell out of her mouth. She looked crestfallen.

Sachiko glowered, which cast Yumi down further. Had she but known, Sachiko was only angry with herself. _The girl obviously doesn't know any better. I meant to be kind to her, didn't I?_

She picked up the chopsticks. "Here," she said, as gently as she knew how. "Like this. One in the crook of your thumb, the other between these fingers. See?" To demonstrate, she took up a bit of rice and a sliver of fish in the chopsticks, and moved them, slowly and carefully in case Yumi jumped again, toward Yumi's mouth, which Yumi opened automatically. A mother had fed her, once. Everyone had a mother. Yumi had a family, somewhere, even if she'd lost them, somehow. The food went in, and Yumi chewed. "You should also eat slowly," Sachiko added. "Chew each bite carefully. It's better manners and your stomach copes with it better. Why do you eat so fast?"

"Mumfa fumf –"

"Stop! Stop. Finish chewing. Swallow. And then answer the question."

"...don't know," Yumi said. "If you've got food and you're surrounded by people who don't, they'll take it away from you. Stomach's the best place to hide it."

"I see." Sachiko briefly glimpsed a world where you had to fight for every meal, run, hide, wolf it down before you could be discovered, then walk out again in search of the next meal, your belly aching... Sachiko could fight. But Yumi looked so defenseless – How was she still alive? "But here, no one is going to take your food away from you. So you may eat in a leisurely, dignified manner." Yumi was gazing at her. She clearly wasn't afraid any more, which was all to the good. _But why is she looking at me that way?..._ Sachiko realized she was gazing at Yumi also. The girl fascinated her for some reason. She plucked with the chopsticks and fed Yumi another mouthful. Yumi accepted it and chewed slowly, carefully, as she'd been told. She continued to look at Sachiko.

_I'm sitting too close to her. She smells terrible._ Or, no. The smell was strong, but not actually unpleasant. Yumi smelled a bit like a fox Sachiko had encountered once, in the wilds.

"You need a bath," she said.

Yumi flinched and ducked her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Oh! This was frustrating. _I hurt her again. I have to stop that._ "No, I mean... would you like to have a bath? The bathhouse at the temple will be closed right now, but we could go in the morning."

Yumi was looking at Sachiko again, openmouthed. "I...I have no money, my lady..."

"I have," Sachiko said firmly. "I will bathe you, dress you –" another pluck of the chopsticks – "and feed you –" another bite into Yumi's mouth. Yumi chewed, still looking at Sachiko in disbelief. "Yumi, I am in need of a bodyservant. Will you serve me?"

The girl's eyes went even wider. She chewed hastily and swallowed. "Serve you? My lady?"

"Yes," Sachiko said patiently. "There is no pay, I fear. But you would have plenty to eat, and a place to sleep, and I would teach you things."

"Teach me things?"

"Yes. Mostly your duties, but...we would see." Magical talent might turn up anywhere, after all. Look at Sei. And there was something fey about the girl... some otherworldly quality, at odds with her repellently filthy appearance, which Sachiko couldn't put her finger on. "Much would depend on you."

"My lady..." Yumi shifted about so that she was facing Sachiko and bent at the waist. She was making obeisance, Sachiko realized. _You're doing that wrong,_ she wanted to say, but decided, well, there was time for that later. "My lady, I broke into your room. I have wronged you. I am unworthy. I am not...you could not..."

"Of course I could," Sachiko said curtly. There was so much to teach this girl, about proper manners, and so on. But after that clumsy bow, Sachiko didn't know whether to scold her or embrace her, and neither, she thought, would do right now. "Just think about it. And sit up straight, please." Yumi straightened up, right away. "Keep eating. Do you want to try using the chopsticks now?"

Yumi seemed disappointed, for some reason, but she accepted the chopsticks. She struggled a little at first, but with the occasional gentle suggestion from Sachiko, she was using the sticks with fluency by the end of her meal. In fact, she seemed to be doing her best to mimic the way Sachiko did things: not just the way Sachiko handled the sticks, but the way Sachiko sat with her legs curled under her, the way Sachiko held her head. Sachiko might have regarded this as impertinence, but couldn't take her eyes off it long enough to chide the girl. The smell was almost unnoticeable now, and Sachiko was looking forward to getting the girl cleaned up and wearing civilized garments.

As Yumi was chewing her last mouthful, they heard a commotion on the ladder, and there was the triumphant expeditionary party at the door.

Or not so triumphant. Rei-san had a cut over her left eye and Yoshino-chan was holding a cloth to it. Yoshino-chan was crying a little and calling Rei-san a fool. "You could have been killed!"

Sei was laughing as she brought Rei over to the kotatsu. "Don't be hard on her, Yoshino. She didn't fare so ill. Eh? A lot better than last time!"

"They got away, Sei," Rei-san said glumly as she sat down, Yoshino-chan still clinging to her side.

"So they did," Sei-san said, "but they won't soon forget us, will they? Not so bad. You just have to remember that you were taught to fight according to rules the rest of the world is under no obligation to follow. You give him an opening and he's going to use it, and hardly cares whether your old swordmaster would approve."

Yumi had reacted to their entrance by shrinking a bit toward Sachiko, but seemed unwilling to touch her without permission. Sachiko stood, putting a hand on Yumi's shoulder to reassure her as well as steady herself, and walked around the table. "Let me see the cut, Rei-san."

Rei-san moved the rag away and presented her forehead without argument. Yoshino-chan got out of the way without being asked. Sachiko knelt by Rei-san. Her eyes on the cut, Sachiko took the rag from Rei-san and wet a corner of it in the water-bowl on the kotatsu. She touched her lips to the cut, and came away a little bloodied. "Poor flesh and bone," she murmured. "Poor head." Blood was trickling down Rei-san's forehead and about to run into her eye. Sachiko caught it with the wet cloth.

She then began to massage the wound, very gently, with the cloth. As she did so, she sang, softly, as if to a lover:

The tree on the mountainside  
Will rally again and see  
Many springs and summers.

The cloth went back to the bowl. The lips went back to the cut. Then the cloth again, and another song:

The spring melt flowing  
Off the mountain makes  
A constant hymn of praise.

The blood was gone from around the cut...and when Sachiko lifted the cloth, the cut was gone too.

Sei-san sighed. "It's beastly of me, to be sure, but I wish someone would get wounded daily so I could watch you do that all the time."

Rei-san looked at Sachiko with her face happy and flushed. "Thanks, Sacchan," she said dazedly.

Yoshino-chan put an arm around Rei-san and glared at Sachiko. "Thank you," she said, irritably.

Rei turned her still-mazed smile on Yoshino. "Please don't speak so roughly to her, Yoshino," she chided gently. She touched Yoshino's cheek. "Pretty Yoshino," she added, in a low voice. "Sweet, gentle Yoshino."

Yoshino blushed in turn, and laid a hand on Rei-san's wrist. "R-Rei-chan," she said, a bit shakily. They gazed upon one another.

Sachiko smiled, looking down demurely, then stood and walked back around the table. In the glow of the healing communion she had almost forgotten Yumi was there. But there she was, gazing at Sachiko still, fingers to her mouth. It was the same look she'd been giving Sachiko before, only more intense, and Sachiko knew all at once what it was. Worship. Utter worship. _What nonsense._ She blushed. She had to dissuade the girl from that, but somehow did not want to.

She looked Yumi in the eye. "I am not a demon," she said. "I am a sorceress. If you join me, you will be a famula, servant to a sorceress. Is that acceptable to you?"

Yumi flung herself at Sachiko's feet. Sachiko knelt and raised her up. "You serve me, but you don't have to kneel to me," Sachiko said, a bit breathlessly. "So do you accept?"

The girl nodded emphatically.

"You're taking her on, then?"

Sachiko turned her head. It was Sei-san who had spoken; she sat there looking at Sachiko and Yumi quizzically. Rei-san and Yoshino-chan seemed to have slipped away at some point. "Yes," said Sachiko. "Youko-sama told me I needed a famula or I couldn't attend this year's Questioning. I was going to have to find one tomorrow, anyway. I think this girl will do very well."

Sei-san's sharp gaze rested doubtfully on Yumi. "If you say so..."

A red firework went off in Sachiko's head. "What do you mean by that, Satou-san?" she said quietly.

"Sei?" another voice said brusquely.

They looked at the door to Satou-san's chamber. The naked girl from before was standing there, except now she was wearing one of Sei's tunics and an irked expression.

"Oh, hell!" Satou-san stood. "Sorry, Maeko. Something came up –"

The girl turned without a word and slid the door forcefully shut behind her.

Satou-san smiled easily at Sachiko. "Goodnight, Sachiko. We should talk about this more in the morning."

"Yes," Sachiko said coldly. "We should."

"But just quickly... Why would those wideboys send a sneak up to your room? Could it be that you have been asked, by someone or other we might both know, to look after some item possessed of some vague importance? Have you forgiven the sneak a little too readily, and might you now be asking that sneak to share your roof in entirely too trusting a fashion?"

"Satou-san –"

"That's just food for thought." Satou-san's voice, which had taken on an unwonted sternness, now relaxed into its usual flippancy. Her eyes flashed agreeably. "Have a lucky dream, Sachiko. You too, little sister." And, with a saucy grin, Satou-san retired.

Sachiko watched her go into her room and shut the door, and then turned back to Yumi. Yumi was still gazing at her. _How often has she taken her eyes off me since we've known one another?_ "Come, Yumi. We should both get some sleep. The bathhouse opens in a few hours."

When they were in Sachiko's chamber, and the door was shut, she went without ado to her cabinet and opened it. She pointed at the top shelf. "Look at that."

Yumi did. Sachiko was secretly delighted by the gentle golden light the object cast upon Yumi's reverent, astonished, grimy face. She suddenly had an idea of what Yumi would look like clean.

"I suspect that's what they sent you up here to steal," Sachiko said stiffly. "It's the only thing of unusual value I currently possess. The cabinet itself is more valuable than any other single object in it, and the cabinet is only painted wood. Do you believe me?"

Yumi straightened. She wasn't looking at Sachiko. "Yes, Mistress." She seemed pained again.

"I'm not going to take any particular care, here," Sachiko said. "I still feel awful about giving you such a fright earlier. So I'm going to sleep. And you're going to sleep in this room with me. I sleep quite heavily, and probably there's no way I could stop you if you waited until I was asleep, then took the object out of the cabinet – which I am leaving unlocked – and ran for it. You could probably find those men and get the money they promised you."

"Do you believe I'll do that, Mistress?" Yumi said.

"Obviously I don't, or I wouldn't be so frank about this. I don't think you'll do it. But whether you do it is not up to me. It is up to you, isn't it? I'm just telling you how things stand. Being honest. I think you'll stay..." Sachiko trailed off. She felt confused. She wasn't sure why she'd approached the topic this way. Yumi stood straight, she no longer trembled under Sachiko's gaze, but she was looking down, and tears were welling in her eyes, and Sachiko couldn't escape the suspicion that she was hurting Yumi needlessly. She seemed to hear Youko-sama saying, _Sachiko, don't make a meal of it. Just say what you feel, or at least what you think. Simply and clearly._

"...I want you to stay. Yumi, I want you to stay very much. Will you?"

And Yumi was looking at her again, and Sachiko hadn't known until Yumi's gaze returned to her how saddened she had been by its absence. "Yes. Yes, Mistress, I will stay. I want to stay too. Thank you."

Sachiko sighed. "And thank you, Yumi." It came to her that she was tired. _Well, it must be nearly the hour of the Ox by this time._ "Time for sleep, Yumi," she said, turning away.

Yumi said, "Should I sleep by the door, Mistress?"

"No. With me, on my pallet." Sachiko was lying down on it as she spoke. "It's a chilly night, and you're not warmly dressed. Here, under my robes."

"But... Mistress, I'm filthy!" Yumi was trembling again, and her hands were clasped over her mouth.

"Yes," Sachiko said impatiently, "but we're both going to the baths first thing in the morning. So what does it matter?"

"We – we shouldn't, Mistress –" The girl seemed ready to flee.

Sachiko was annoyed. She was being practical as well as conferring a favor, and the girl was being obstinate. A minor matter was being blown up into open warfare between mistress and famula, and on their first day. "Yumi, are you defying me?"

Yumi looked stricken. "No, Mistress! Mistress, I...I..."

"You _what_?"

"I...I have lice, Mistress..." Yumi began to cry.

Sachiko lay there, staring, at a loss.

Yumi kept crying.

Sachiko got to her feet, went to Yumi, and put an arm about her shoulders. "Please don't cry," she said awkwardly. "Please, Yumi."

"Do I...disgust you? Do you h – hate me?"

"No. To both. No, Yumi." _I'm amazed you don't hate_ me. "Please, Yumi." Her hands, unbidden, were stroking Yumi's bare shoulder and her rough, matted hair. "Please, little fox, don't cry."

With some effort, Yumi got it down to sniffles.

"Come to bed, Yumi."

"...the lice..."

"Don't worry about the lice. I know a word or two will settle that. Come on. Sleep warm with me."

Yumi came with her, and they slept warm together, having fallen asleep to the sound of the bitter yet desultory argument in Satou-san's chamber, and the blissful lovemaking in Rei-san and Yoshino-chan's.

* * *

(1) "It's almost as bad as having thirty-seven hornets in your trousers." Ichiki speaks feelingly, here. Japanese hornets are of an especially loathsome sort. They are enormous (about two inches long), aggressive reptiles with a predilection for slaughtering bees by the hiveful, eating their honey, and stealing their children for food, and – just to be refreshing or something – the venom in their stingers actually dissolves human tissue. Perhaps forty people die each year from encounters with the beasts. American hornets are pussy cats by comparison. If you don't believe me, google "Japanese hornets."


	3. The Markets Of the Left And Right

Hello and here we are again. Not quite as long a wait as last time, but, well, not quite as short a wait as I'd hoped. Sorry about that. I'll try to whittle the wait time down some more. Thanks again to Rosa Chinensis for her continued beta.

Um, glossary. Aniki – older brother, but not necessarily a blood relation. Imouto – younger sister, but in this story at least, not necessarily a blood relation either; mainly refers to one's junior in the Sorceress's Guild, and is just what they say instead of "petite soeur," because they don't know French. "About five kin" – You can probably google "japanese system weights measures" yourselves, but it does no harm to say that one kin is about 601 grams, or roughly 1.3 pounds. So, a fair amount of rice. The Japanese system of commerce at the time seems to have been rather different from anything we know. The Eastern and Western Markets existed in Heian Kyo more or less as I've described them – though I've done a certain amount of unjustified guessing with regard to the Western Market – but there was also apparently no actual merchant class at the time, and pretty much all buying and selling was controlled by the government, also known as the Fujiwara family. So I don't really know who the marketeers were. Research continues. But there was no free enterprise system as we understand it. Then again, they don't appear to have had a Sorceress's Guild either, or indeed any really solid guild-like excrescences until early in the Kamakura period.

If you like, simply suppose that as I was crossing a bridge of dreams, I ran across this complete fantod of a world, which you can believe in exactly as much as it pleases you to believe in it at any given moment. That's sort of the approach I'm taking. And since it's sort of what the Heian courtiers believed about the world they lived in, it's oddly appropriate.

Enough blithering. Forward.

* * *

III. The Markets Of the Left And Right

Sachiko dreamt of a fox. The fox was peering out of a hole, just ahead of her. She had been going through the brush, looking for edible plants, and was suddenly confronted with this furry, peak-eared, sharp-nosed, laughing-tongued, gleaming-eyed face. It looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to speak.

"How do you do," she said.

"As well as I may," said the fox. "What are you up to?"

"I am searching for food."

"Ah, yes," said the fox. "Naturally. But we all need food, and you are a stranger here. Will you take the food that was meant to feed those who live in these parts?"

"If I am not to die in these parts, I am," Sachiko answered.

"Only so much as you need then. Try there, down the bank. In the long grasses, you may find onion-weed and meat-foil."

Sachiko went down the bank on all fours. Mist hung over everything, and the grasses were thick. She remembered this ridge, except that the air had a morning crispness, and the sun was at the west. Something odd about that.

The fox's voice stayed with her. "To your left. Ah, here is dill a-plenty. Shiso and miso, shiitake and rice-flower. Jasmine and tearoot, hahhh..."

Sachiko stopped. She had come upon a hole. It was only a little hole, but it was so dark she was almost sure it would swallow her whole if she attempted it. She was aware, somewhere, that she was dreaming, and the hole looked like it might lead to another dream, a less peaceful and misty one altogether.

"The Lady sleeps down there," said the voice of the fox.

"The Lady?"

"The Sun that Shines Underground. The Lady of Mud and Mountain, with Nine Tails Shining..." the fox sounded reverent.

Sachiko put a hand on the edge of the hole. Away down in the deeps a little light flared, and an eye half-opened and peered redly up at Sachiko.

"Beware how you wake the Lady," said the voice of the fox, a voice suddenly made of gnawed twigs and dead leaves. "Beware."

Sachiko awoke.

* * *

Yumi was awake already, watching her.

"Well. Good morning," Sachiko said.

Yumi smiled shyly. "Good morning," she said.

"Bath time," Sachiko said.

They rose.

Yumi just sat there, scratching her head at first. Sachiko went to the cabinet. She was thinking about the dream she'd just had – the details were fading, but she held hard to the general gist of it. She was very much alive to the implications of having such a dream, such a vivid and disturbing dream, when she had just met the girl she meant to make her imouto, and while she was sleeping with that very girl folded in her robes. In fact, however, there were a number of different ways such a dream could be interpreted, and looking at her filthy yet appealing charge in the morning light, it was very difficult to see her as a danger, especially remembering the remarkably soft smile she had smiled upon Sachiko's waking... Well... Smiles didn't prove anything, any more than dreams did. There was a lot to do, today. For the moment, watchfulness was all.

She got out a simple grey shift. "This isn't elaborate, but you'll wear it after you've bathed. I'll carry it for the time being. All right?"

"Yes, Mistress. What about these?" She indicated the rags she was wearing.

"You'll have no further use for those. We'll put them on a midden after the bath. Then I'll have to get you some proper clothes." She closed the cabinet.

"Mistress...I..."

"Yumi, if there's something on your mind, please speak."

"You...you shouldn't spend too much money on me, Mistress. I'm not worthy..."

From by the cabinet, Sachiko stared at the girl on her pallet, a reversal of their positions last night after the lice announcement. Then she went and knelt by her.

"Do you think you're unworthy to serve me, Yumi?"

From Yumi's face, this question might have been torture.

"Worthiness is an interesting idea," Sachiko went on. "We should talk about it more, when we have time. When I first came to the Guild, the only daughter of a wealthy, powerful man, I had the opposite problem you have. I thought I was worthy of anything and everything, and certainly worthy of far more and better than anyone in the Guild seemed willing to bestow on me. I was soon disabused of this. My teacher assured me that I was worthy of decent treatment, the same as anyone else in the Guild, but that they had no time to pamper and coddle me. 'In your world,' she said, 'it's all a matter of who your parents are. Here it's who _you_ are, what you've done, what you can do. And you haven't done anything yet.'"

Yumi had started staring down at her grimy fingers, but was now looking at Sachiko in astonishment. "She spoke to you that way? Mistress," she added hastily.

"Yes, she did. I deserved it. And you're making the same mistake I made, but in the opposite direction." Sachiko took those soft, grimy little fingers in one of her white hands. "You are entering the Sorceresses' Guild as my famula, and my prospective student. You are worthy of anything and everything the other young students are worthy of. And anyone who says otherwise will have me to reckon with. Including you. Do you understand?"

"I...just...look at me..." Looking away again, in shame.

"Yes. You're a mess. So let's go and do something about that." She stood, and hauled Yumi to her feet as she went. "If you're dirty, what else is there to do but clean yourself as best you can?"

* * *

Sei sat on a low stone wall near the great Western Market. Maeko sat near her. To the south of them, there was a dilapidated street, partially inhabited, partially a long, ill-kept series of large lock-boxes disguised as shuttered shops. To the north lay an open field, broken here and there by herds of cattle and by uneven, weed-choked, incomplete lines of stone, the ghosts of old streets and alleys. To the northwest a group of old houses had burned three nights ago and were still smoldering, and the stink of it flavored the air. This was the City of the Right, which had over time become no city, or the ghost of a city, or perhaps the dark brother of the City of the Left. Between the world of the wastes to the north and the unfriendly street on the south was the market, a world unto itself. You could buy many of the same things here that you could buy in the better-appointed Eastern Market on the other side of the city, but you could also buy goods and services you wouldn't necessarily want anyone to know you'd bought. So you had to be cautious, as did the people who sold them to you. It was quieter than the Eastern Market; it was not a place for loud noises, or sudden moves.

Sei and Maeko watched as the tamer marketeers set up stalls, unrolled mats, laid goods out on display.

Sei tore a hunk of bread off the loaf she was holding and handed it to Maeko.

"Have you forgiven me yet?" Sei wondered.

"As if my forgiveness was worth one grain of rice to you," Maeko sniffed. Still, she accepted the bread and began chewing on it. "Hmmm. Tough. Sour."

"Maybe it's an acquired taste." Sei didn't look at Maeko. She slouched there on the wall, her hands on her knees, her elbows sticking out to either side. She looked a bit like a praying mantis with a sense of humor. She continued to examine the proceedings of the marketeers with constant interest and just the hint of a laugh in her face.

"Why are you out here anyway?" Maeko wondered.

"Hoping I see someone I know."

"Who?"

Sei said nothing.

"Why?" Maeko asked.

"To ask a question I'm hoping to ask... Oi! Oooiii! Toshi!" she called.

She had directed this toward a group of men a little way off. It looked as if some kind of meeting had just broken up over there, and the men were still standing around in twos and threes. A slender small ratlike man – much smaller than Sei, not much bigger than Maeko – looked up from a conversation he was having, and went right back to it without so much as a nod.

"That's the man?" Maeko asked.

"Yes."

"Doesn't seem eager to talk to you."

"He'll come over as soon as he's done... Won't your parents be wondering where you are?"

Maeko grimaced, and stood. "You're really eager to hold on to me. Will I see you soon, Sei?"

"Questioning's almost upon us, pert-buns. I'll be busy, and then I'll be out of town for a little."

"But you are still coming to my wedding?" Maeko wasn't looking at Sei. And she was scuffing a toe in the dirt.

Sei turned her head at last to look at Maeko, and Maeko, catching the movement, looked up. Sei looked her in the eye calmly. "I can't think why you'd want me there, but I did promise you. Be well, Maeko." She meant this, but sounding as if she meant it wasn't easy. _I care for you. As much as I can._

There was a silence, which involved more toe-scuffing and absence of eye contact. Then Maeko said, "I'll be thinking of you, Sei."

And then she dashed off, towards her home.

Sei watched her go, a little sadly. She hadn't been attached to Maeko – she was careful about attachments, these days – but she had allowed herself to become just that little bit fond of her. It wouldn't be a wrench, letting her go, but a slight pang, no question...

_Oh, well. The future lies this way._

Toshi came up to her, with a suspicious look on his narrow face. "Hello, strange woman."

"Hello yourself, Tosh. I've a favor to ask of you."

His eyes shifted a bit, but in the end he looked down, with a sigh. "You saved my life, strange woman. I will do as you ask."

"This isn't a dangerous one. And I'll pay you for your time."

Toshi beamed. "Anything you ask!" he said emphatically.

Sei answered this lightning change of attitude with her crookedest grin. "I and my friends had a violent meeting last night, Toshi. With ruffians. Wise guys. Thieves, masterless men. Possibly friends of yours."

Toshi shrugged. "Anything is possible."

"There was a conversation among swords. One of them was wounded. The other two carried him off. I'll describe them for you." She did so.

Toshi nodded when she was done. "This one who jumped back, with the headband and the pretty robes – sounds interesting."

"Yes, doesn't he? Not the sort you'd ordinarily meet in a situation like that. The robes, and his shyness when it came to swordsmanship, lead me to suspect that he may have come from –" she lowered her voice – "the northernmost ward."

Toshi definitely looked interested now. "Very unusual. Strange woman brings strange news."

"I'm like that, or so I'm told," Sei said. "Here's walk-around money, with an advance." She offered him a smallish necklace of coins.

Toshi grunted with displeasure at the sight of them.

Sei sighed. "You can exchange them for rice at the usual rate and in the usual place, Toshi, you know that," she said impatiently. "Really, you Japanese need to get over your aversion to coined money."

"You gaijin need to get over your aversion to good honest rice," Toshi said resentfully.

"Rice is decent fare," Sei said grudgingly, "though I prefer potatoes, but even I have never used potatoes as money. Rice doesn't keep indefinitely, and it'd be devilish wonky, hauling this much rice with me everywhere I went."

Toshi gave the coins another look. "How much rice is that?"

"About five kin."

His lips moved a little. "Good enough," he said. He accepted the necklace.

"I want you to discover what you can about these men. And I don't want them to rumble they're being traced at all. I want you to be the merest shadow. Less even than a shadow."

Toshi nodded, and smiled. "You've come to the right Toshi for that," he said. "I'm just about invisible." Then he looked a bit morose. "Though there was one person who spotted me, once."

Sei nodded. "I know that, Toshi. But don't worry. I promised you I wouldn't tell, remember?..."

* * *

Yumi was naked, wet, embarrassed, confused, and in love.

She was finding life no less difficult than she'd found it yesterday, but much more complicated.

The naked and wet part was easy enough to understand; she'd removed her clothing and hot water had been poured over her. This, in turn, led to embarrassment. The confusion lay in the fact that she couldn't feel just one way about anything that was happening to her; she couldn't be only embarrassed or only happy, only wretched or only joyful: she was naked, wet, filthy, and vulnerable, in front of many strangers, and in front of the object of her love:

Sachiko-sama.

Why this great lady wanted Yumi around, Yumi still didn't know. Here was another source of confusion: she wanted to know why, and in fact she wanted to know everything about her Mistress, the Dark Lady, the most beautiful, powerful, clever, mysterious woman in the world. She could not rest until she knew everything, until she had cloaked herself in Sachiko-sama, or Sachiko-sama in herself, until she had become one with Sachiko-sama, or with all of the world that Sachiko-sama touched or cared for. On the other hand, she thought she might never know why, that the divine glory that was Sachiko-sama might not be for one such as she to understand, and the wisest course might simply be to enjoy her proximity with Sachiko-sama while it lasted, for it couldn't last long.

Sachiko-sama was also naked and wet – though her wetness was just from the air in the bathhouse, as she had not doused herself yet – and this had added in great measure to Yumi's confusion and distraction. Having Sachiko-sama's naked form in her vision – long, long black hair; deep blue eyes; pale, creamy skin – filled her with vertigo, with a strong feeling that there was something she should do, and the strong feeling that if she figured out what that something was, and did it, she would be destroyed.

It was easier now that Sachiko-sama was behind Yumi, and Yumi couldn't see her. Sachiko-sama was scrubbing Yumi's back. This had confused and upset Yumi at first – Sachiko-sama's beautiful slender white hands and long fingers were surely made for the noblest of deeds – to call forth fire against her enemies, and to heal her friends with their good, bright magic, as Yumi had seen: not to scrub Yumi's ordinary back. But when Yumi had hinted at this, Sachiko-sama had said she was being silly again. "You can't very well scrub your own back. And I'm certainly not going to let anyone else do it. Oh, Rei-san or Yoshino-chan, perhaps, but they're not here."

"Not Satou-sama?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Yumi." Sharp.

"Sorry, Mistress." Downcast.

"And don't be sorry either." Brisk, cheerful.

There was another thing. The unanimous opinion of everyone Yumi spoke to, including other tramps, was that Yumi was stupid and worthless. So now she was in the presence of this rarefied being, the one person she'd met who really made her feel stupid and worthless, and Sachiko-sama didn't seem to think of her that way at all. Just told her not to be silly when she raised the subject.

Sachiko-sama was complicated, but she seemed to like Yumi. Heaven might know why, but Yumi didn't.

But it seemed as if Yumi could never open her mouth without saying something that sounded foolish to herself, at least. So she had tried to spend this morning in a quiet, mortified, bashful state...

...which Sachiko-sama would not let her stay in. Sachiko-sama demanded a response, always.

Yumi just went on scrubbing all the parts of herself she could reach, and tried not to think about Sachiko-sama's hands scrubbing her back, and how nice they felt. She looked about her as she scrubbed, at the other people scrubbing themselves, and soaking in the two large, squarish stone tubs. The floor of the bath house was of earth. On this chilly morning in early spring, the bath house was warm, heated as it was by two large iron cauldrons near the far eastern wall in which bathwater steamed. High above the cauldrons was the gabled roof, with the morning sun peeking between short wooden pillars, catching and making brilliant the moisture in the air, and throwing dark shadows behind the bathers, and behind the partitions and alcoves which had been placed here and there for modesty's sake.

It was truly early spring, in Yumi's heart. All had been winter before this, and winter had been wearying and terrifying, an endless quest for warm places, which were often begrudged her by their warm and well-fed owners, and nights when she was sure she wouldn't see the morning, trudging along in search of a friendly fire, her rag-wrapped feet kicking now and then at the corpse of a bird, frozen in mid-flight. In this moist, life-giving warmth, it was like an ill dream. Now the weather was warmer and she'd found this unexpected joy, and almost felt like a child again, as she was washed by kind hands...

...and as she was thinking this, the picture before her, of people bathing and sun and the pillars – especially the pillars, one of them had a knot, and big splinters coming off it so that just looking at it made her hand twitch – was all so familiar to her that it seemed to her for a moment that she was in the bathhouse near where she'd grown up, in the spring before the long winter. She knew suddenly the truth of the old springtime...

The truth was there in her head. And it was unbearable. And then it was gone again, and she was scrubbing harder, her hands instinctively knowing that they had to distract her from what had just happened.

"Is something wrong?" said Sachiko-sama's unwontedly gentle, dreamy voice, from very near the nape of Yumi's neck. Yumi jumped a little, and scrubbed herself even harder with the loofah. "No! Nothing, Mistress." She hunted around for something else to say, fast. "I'm sorry I'm so filthy –"

"Nonsense, Yumi." Sachiko-sama sounded a bit more alert. "Look around you. Some of these people have been away from a bath for months. Do you see that old man? I'm sure his skin isn't really that color. And he's not the worst I've ever seen. You've nothing to be ashamed of."

"Mmm," Yumi mmmed, not convinced.

Sachiko-sama chuckled warmly. "Starting on your hair now, Yumi."

Her hair was a horrible, tangled mess, Yumi knew. Sachiko-sama slowly and carefully unsnarled it. She was doing her best not to hurt Yumi. The occasional whimper escaped between her clamped lips, but Yumi regarded this as a test. She had to show Sachiko-sama she could be stern if she needed to. Sachiko-sama was strong. Yumi could never be that strong, but she wanted to be as strong as she could.

And she never budged.

And gradually it ceased to be an ordeal and became, as the back-scrubbing had been, pleasant and unnerving all at once. Sachiko-sama's fingers ran through Yumi's hair. They stopped, and Sachiko rinsed, and the sheer pleasure of feeling all that muck just fall away filled Yumi with a tingling warmth. Yumi turned her face up for the last of it, closing her eyes, perhaps reveling a bit. When she opened them, there was Sachiko-sama's face above her, upside down, smiling, almost laughing. And then Sachiko-sama began to soap her hair for the second time. The suds were thicker now, and her hair squeaked a little under them. Yumi felt as if she were floating.

"The lice," Yumi said, without realizing she was speaking.

"I'm feeling them now," Sachiko-sama said. "They were trying to hide from me before." There was that smile in her voice. Yumi could feel Sachiko's hands, and lice squirming under the hands, in the soap.

Sachiko-sama sang:

The many hells surely wait  
For such vermin as yourselves -  
Or at least, the cold earth.

And... against the coldness of the last line, the warmth in Yumi's body surged again. There was also the strong impression that she could feel everything around her – the bare wood stool she sat on, the packed dirt under her feet, banks and tendrils of steam in the moist air, and Sachiko-sama behind her – especially Sachiko-sama. They were two warmths, almost lost in the greater warmth of the bathhouse, they shone with warmth, Sachiko with her own and Yumi with the warmth Sachiko had poured into her, and Yumi's limbs felt wonderfully loose and easy... The lice had stopped squirming. "The lice, Mistress?..."

"They're dead. Their little bodies tumble off you even now."

And Sachiko-sama rinsed Yumi's hair again.

At the end of it all, at a touch on her shoulder from Sachiko-sama, Yumi turned on the stool to face her, and Sachiko-sama put a hand on each of Yumi's shoulders. "You are clean. Is it agreeable to you?"

"Yes, Mistress," Yumi said.

"Please wait here. My bath won't take as long, but I do need one. But I have to get more water from the concierge."

And Sachiko wrapped herself in her towel again and walked toward the surly man who was tending the fires under the cauldrons.

Yumi stood, and walked around a little. The strange feeling she'd had earlier had passed completely, and all she was left with was a sense of niggling familiarity, a sense that she'd seen this place before. But really, it was just an enormous room, and she supposed that one bathhouse must be very like another, and she had seldom been allowed inside any of them, at least as far back as...

...as she could...

(An eye observed her, to her unknowledge. A careful, clever eye which took in her slenderness, her wetness, her sun-browned limbs and head against the paleness of the rest of her, her awkward grace, her newly-born quality, and this eye much liked what it saw. The owner of the eye winked it at no-one, and moved.)

None of the alcoves was very large, it seemed to Yumi, and yet this one, here, looked interesting, as if an altar had been set up in it at one time: an old cracked table, a dulled vase with a shiny violet inside showing at the lip, and a place that looked as if an image had hung there –

A dark shadow enveloped her. There was a man between her and the sunshiny pillars at the eastern end. A tall man with an earring and a broad, shiny-toothed grin. He looked like a river-demon. "Funny, that this alcove interests you," he said, taking her elbow. "It has a most curious history! This place in dark times was once a shrine to foreign gods – demons in all sooth – and I am a demon, from a long line of river demons worshipped here. This is my family altar..."

This silly man was no demon. Yumi knew demons. But he was strong. As she was urged along toward the altar, as she and the river-demon were both eclipsed by the darker shadow of the bamboo partition, Yumi tried to pull her elbow free. The man's grip tightened.

* * *

The concierge, Yukito-san, was in a grumpy mood. "You don't usually ask for more water, Ogasawara-san."

"Well, no. But today I have a companion."

"I saw. Has she paid her temple fee?"

"No. She is my servant, and I've only just engaged her. She has no money."

"So when will she pay her fee?"

"I will pay it for her, as soon as you tell me what amount the temple will charge her, and as soon as I can get my clothing and valuables back from you. For right now, may I just have the water? I've bathed her, you see, and there is no water left. My own bath is still to do. You would oblige me extremely, Yukito-san."

Yukito-san stared at her a moment longer, his arms still folded over his belly. Then he rose, and held his hand out for her bucket.

When he had filled it, he said, "No charge, this time. But see Keita-'nii-san before she bathes here again, please."

"I certainly will. I am grateful for your generosity, Yukito-san."

Sachiko accepted her water with a small bow, and walked back –

– and Yumi was not where she'd left her. Her towel lay folded on the stool where she'd left it.

Sachiko set the water down by it, cursing herself for a fool. _Take my eye off her for five seconds –_ She looked around –

Ah, there was the alcove there, with the old altar in it, and she could hear familiar sounds of distress coming from it. She rounded the corner as quickly as she could.

There was a man. A big man. A big man filthy with mud as if he'd been wading up to the neck in a river. One of his arms was covered with blue and pink tattoos. He wore earrings. His thing was flopping around as he tried to get Yumi up against the altar. Yumi was struggling, yelping, "Wait! Hey, wait! Please, stop! No –" And he was laughing, grabbing her arms, laughing again when they slipped out of his grip, getting another grip, he was touching Yumi, and his thing was –

"Let her go," Sachiko said.

He turned to look at her. "Bite me –" he drawled, and stopped. He seemed to recognize her.

"Let her go. Right away. Or I _will_ bite you."

"Now, wait a minute," he said. "If she comes here – I mean, everyone knows it's mixed bathing, here –"

He had maintained his grip on one of Yumi's shoulders, but somehow Yumi slipped out of it, and as soon as she had, he slipped, as though he'd stepped on a piece of rotten fruit, and was flying headlong.

Yumi squeaked, and fitted herself into the corner.

_I have to talk her out of her obsession with corners,_ Sachiko thought absently. But her eyes, and most of her attention, were on her prey. He looked a rough, dangerous sort of man, but he was currently lying prone and trembling, staring at Sachiko. She stared back, considering the rich variety of options open to her. _"Bite me," did he say? Should I give him something to bite on? Hard enough to break his teeth, perhaps?..._

_Yumi is here. Yumi is watching._

Sachiko took a deep breath, and spoke slowly, with carefully contrived mildness. "For the future: if a sorceress tells you to do something 'right away,' it is excellent policy to comply."

"I didn't –" he said, and stopped. He was grimacing and clutching his thing. There was a light smear of blood on one hand. He seemed to have landed badly.

"Is there anything you wish to say?" she asked him.

He was looking at her with his mouth open.

She raised an eyebrow.

He cried out and began to scratch himself down there.

"If you don't want anything worse than an itch," she said, "then take yourself off. And if you interfere with a sorceress again it'll be the worse for you."

He was gone.

Where there had been no-one a few moments ago, some bathers – a rather attractive young woman, a woman of matriarchal years and weight with some grey in her hair, a skinny young man – were all staring, at Sachiko, and at the towelless Yumi. The young man's jaw was hanging free. Sachiko fought back the deep red rage she was feeling, and gave them a calm, gentle look. They turned back to what they were doing, almost with one motion.

And she turned at last to Yumi. "Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

Before the question was all the way out of her mouth, however, Yumi had flung herself forward and wrapped herself around her. She was wet, cold, and trembling in Sachiko's arms.

Sachiko might have said that a properly respectful servant did not embrace her mistress, certainly not without permission, but Yumi was trembling too badly for her to say anything of the kind, and anyway, there was something... nice... about the feeling. She felt an urge to fling the girl away – she was never this close, this intimate with anybody – but there was a more powerful urge she hadn't recognized until now, which, looking back on her actions, she supposed must have been with her since she had first looked into a pair of large, teary, frightened eyes last night: the deep, dark, primal urge to... to hold this girl, and protect her, and, now and then... comb her hair and tell her how cute she was. The urge was much more noticeable now that the girl was clean and therefore more obviously cute.

And so, she relaxed, and held Yumi closer. The girl's utter vulnerability touched her – a girl who had until recently lacked any protection whatever. How was she possible?

Yumi's trembling had calmed considerably by the time Sachiko had fully accepted this new fact: she had found much, much more than a famula. "Better, now?" Sachiko said.

Yumi reluctantly put herself away from Sachiko, or at least at arm's length. She was blushing. "I am sorry, Mistress – I shouldn't –" she was stopped by one Sachiko hand on her cheek, and by a soft Sachiko kiss on her forehead.

"Please don't apologize," Sachiko said. "It was stupid of me to leave you alone. What happened was my fault. It is mixed bathing, you see, as that worm said. I have the reputation of being a sorceress, so I'm pretty much immune to such attacks, and I didn't stop to think that my reputation might not protect you if I left you alone. That shouldn't happen again as long as we stay together."

"All right," Yumi said, looking a little dazed. "But...should I not have..."

Sachiko looked at Yumi, a bit puzzled, then thought: _She's worried about hugging me without permission._ She drew Yumi into her embrace of her own accord, this time. "You will learn how to behave properly around me, and not to hug me without warning, and to observe other important points of etiquette – in public," Sachiko said into one pink ear. "I will be patient with you. When we are in private, however, I wouldn't have you any other way than as you are. All right?"

"Yes, Mistress," Yumi said. They broke the hug, and there was that gaze again: adoration. Sachiko basked in it for a moment, and wondered what on earth to do about it.

"Good. Now, would you do something for me?"

"Anything, Mistress!"

"Please wash my back?"

Yumi smiled happily. "Yes, Mistress!"

* * *

Tsujimoto no Fujito, while an intelligent man, and skilled by now in certain aspects of underworld life, was not very good at following people.

Fortunately, it was a busy day in the Great Eastern Market, and he'd managed to pick up his quarry very early, just as they were leaving the Mountain Lily Inn to go to the temple baths. There were enough people, and therefore enough noise, movement, distraction generally, that he could stay fairly close to them without much chance of their noticing.

His one worry, since this market was often frequented by palace servants, was the possibility of being recognised by someone who knew him from his previous existence. In situations like this he would take Ichiki-san's advice: "Wear drab clothes, don't powder your face, and that sissy little lacquered hat of yours is just about the worst thing imaginable; it's like wrapping a banner around your head reading FUGITIVE NOBLEMAN HERE." This was difficult advice for Tsujimoto no Fujito to follow; he didn't feel like himself when he wasn't properly dressed and coiffed. But Ichiki-san had made him see, with much wheedling and coaxing, that his habitual raiment was now an aid to identification and, even with the imperial guards and the city constabulary in the sorry state they were in, a danger not only to himself but to his compatriots.

He was tired. He was normally asleep around this time, but he'd found it advisable to keep clear of Shinji-kun for the moment. Shinji-kun had always looked up to Ichiki-san as an elder brother, and now Ichiki-san lay mortally wounded, and it was, after all, after a fashion, as who should say... Tsuji's fault. Rather. Shinji-kun had made no open accusation, but since the rumpus several hours earlier, he had taken to looking at Tsujimoto with an unnerving light in his eyes, such that Tsujimoto thought it might be the gravest folly to sleep in Shinji-kun's presence.

And after all, if he was to have any hope of gaining his prize, he needed intelligence. He had thought of attempting a desperate ingress to the Ogasawara's rooms while she was out, but was held back by Ichiki and Shinji's former warnings about sorceresses, and the fact that at least two of the sorceresses with whom the Ogasawara cohabited had not yet stirred and, should he chance to disturb them...

No. With his lieutenants effectively out of the game, he needed someone else to take his risks for him.

He wouldn't have recognised the beggar-girl if she hadn't been clinging to the Ogasawara sorceress's arm when they came out of the temple bath. The girl was unwontedly clean and had turned out to be surprisingly comely, if a bit scrawny, under all that filth. It astonished him, after hearing that scream in the night, that she was alive at all, but what had startled and upset him more than anything was that his lucky urchin, his filthy little thief, was on such good terms with the woman he had set her on to rob only hours before. She stayed close to the Ogasawara at all times, often looking up at her worshipfully – and the Ogasawara, for her part, though calm of visage – stern, at times – seemed solicitous and protective of the little thief to a startling degree. This was not the behavior of a person who was about to call a constable. To Tsujimoto no Fujito, this was both good news and bad rolled into one unpredictable package.

Indeed, as their peregrinations through the noise and confusion of the Eastern Market continued, it became clear that the Ogasawara was outfitting the girl, buying her clothes and shoes and ladies' necessaries of various description. Had she engaged the girl as a servant?... It didn't quite feel that way. Tsujimoto was no expert in these matters, but it seemed more... They were currently choosing robes and tunics in a partially enclosed stall, dull grey wood on the outside, vibrant passionate color within... He found a side of the stall that was close to another stall, and relatively quiet, and a crack between two boards to peer through. Just a snatch of overheard conversation might tell him much.

His little between-the-wood slice happened to include his little thief and no-one else. She was wearing robes far too grand for her, and seemed to find the floor wildly interesting.

"Mistress, this fits well enough."

"It does. It is only... I am irked, Yumi." That was the Ogasawara, no doubt. A well-modulated, cultured voice. "The best greens are not available to you because that is the official colour of the sixth rank of the palace hierarchy. This green and this violet together do make a pretty enough show. I was just hoping to do better for you, that's all. Have you any other greens, friend?"

Tsujimoto couldn't see the shopkeeper, but heard him grumble a bit. Some hanging robes wavered and jounced as if someone had gone behind them.

Tsujimoto's lucky thief hung her head and blushed. She seemed to have a surprisingly delicate complexion for a beggar. "Mistress – plain grey would be good enough for me. Less expensive too. You shouldn't..." She seemed unable to finish the thought.

And then the Ogasawara was right in front of her. Her eyes were flashing in an agreeable way. Tsujimoto thought briefly what a pity it was that such a magnificent creature – and with such a pedigree! – should abandon society, tie back her hair, and open herself to such defilement as the sorceresses did.

"Yumi, what did I tell you?..."

"That I shouldn't hate myself so much for being mere filth, Mistress."

"Those were not the words I used, Yumi."

"No, Mistress. I'm as good as anybody in the Guild, Mistress."

"Much better, Yumi."

So the Ogasawara was teaching his thief strange and irreligious ideas. Most curious. Tsujimoto saw that he would have to move fast if he wanted to reassert his dominion over the girl.

"You must learn to value yourself properly, Yumi," the sorceress went on. "I won't have an imouto who doesn't have a proper sense of her own station."

The girl ducked her head as if she'd been slapped.

The Ogasawara shook her head very slightly. "Come, Yumi. This is no way to be. Look! Take these off..." She began undressing the girl, who went completely pink and let out a strange squeal a bit like a baby dragon, but did not resist. "You'll try on this puce one instead, while we're waiting for the onee-san to come back. With perhaps the moss green, with the autumnal motif..."

"Mistress – please –"

"Don't squirm so, Yumi. What _is_ the matter?"

"I... I itch, Mistress."

Those astonishing blue eyes regarded the beggar girl. "Was it the bath?"

"I think so, Mistress." The beggar girl was looking at the floor.

The Ogasawara regarded the beggar girl for another moment, and then wrapped her arms around her, pulling her near. The beggar girl made another squeaking sound, but did not resist.

The Ogasawara said:

Little fox with no fleas,  
With all filth banished:  
Be at peace with your skin.

_Was that supposed to be a poem?_ Tsuji thought, incredulous. _She's rubbish._

"Better?" said the Ogasawara.

"Yes," said the beggar girl. She was still blushing, but seemed considerably more relaxed. She just stood in her mistress's embrace, looking very comfortable, and looking up at her. "You'll use your magic even just to make an itch go away?"

"If I can give an itch to a river demon, I can take one away from my little fox," the Ogasawara said. Fondly.

"You didn't give him a poem, Mistress."

"He didn't merit one."

They just stood like that a moment longer, and then the Ogasawara released the girl, gently, perhaps a bit awkwardly. Then she continued to undress her. Soon the pink-cheeked beggar girl was quite unclothed, but the Ogasawara was in the way, and Tsujimoto couldn't quite see – there was something odd about her, aside from the scrawniness, something –

"Excuse me."

Tsujimoto looked up quickly. There was the shopkeeper, hands on his hips – oh, er, on her hips – giving him a dispassionate look.

Caught. In truth, Tsujimoto was an old hand at peeping at women while they dressed, since well before he had perforce joined the underworld. But the scrawny little tramp in there was not really to his taste, and he hadn't thought of what he was doing in those terms at all. "I, er, um," he said intelligently, his hands fondling one another in what he hoped was an apologetic fashion.

The woman struck him quite hard over the right ear, and he went down.

He writhed and scrabbled a bit in the dust, clutching his head. She'd cupped her hand, and his ear felt as if a whole room had been shoved suddenly inside it, an enormous space between him and the world of his right side, with breakers coming up to its terrace, and a demented bird singing a single high note in the eaves.

He heard through the waves and the sick-sweet tone the woman saying, "If you're here when I come back, I'll have a board with some nails in it." And then he heard her retreating footsteps.

Tsujimoto stood, with some effort. Time to go. Damned women. Women were supposed to be gentle, submissive, self-effacing. They weren't supposed to steal your thief from you, they weren't supposed to use swords on your henchmen. They certainly weren't supposed to hit you unfairly like that. Still, it probably was for the best. If she hadn't dismissed him as a nasty little voyeur, she might have thought it necessary to draw the Ogasawara's attention to him, and that might well have been fatal. He got back out into the main thoroughfare and managed, in spite of the noise, and the people dashing to and fro and stepping on his feet, and the vibrating gong in his middle ear, to orient himself as to the compass points. He headed west, through the throng.

Things had become desperate. If the object was to be surrounded at all times by sorceresses, and he couldn't even handle unarmed combat with an irate clothier, then he definitely needed some help. But his usual help was out of commission – well, one-half out of commission. But Shinji-kun would likely be unwilling to accept his leadership while his aniki lay wounded, perhaps dying.

_I'm an aniki too,_ he thought to himself, as he hustled along Seventh Street toward Red Bird Avenue. _Yes._ The great willows that lined the avenue waved and rustled in the spring wind. He would turn right when he reached them, and go north, and he knew the door to knock upon. He had hoped to avoid this necessity, but the situation was desperate. It was time to call in some favors.

* * *

The sorceress Mizuno Youko looked critically at her imouto's new famula. The girl had curtsied properly and now stood submissive, awaiting approval. Her shoulder-length hair, light brown and shiny, was pulled back into a barrette, and she wore a white tunic going to mid-thigh, and a violet robe. Her shoes were of black lacquered wood, quite new, and her dainty toenails were painted a seashell pink. She appeared to have been dressed and shod and coiffed at considerably greater expense than famulae usually were. But, unusual as that was, it was really up to Sachiko how she dressed her famula and Youko had nothing to say about it. Officially.

She sneaked a quick glance at Sachiko. Rather than looking at Youko, sternly awaiting her judgment (and hopefully approval) as she usually did, she was looking at Yumi, with a fond little smile and dreaming eyes.

_Oh, dear._

Youko quizzed the girl as to her duties.

"It is my duty to serve my Mistress, standing at her side, supporting her silently," Yumi said. "It is my duty to fetch things my Mistress asks for, and to serve her tea when she requires it. Mistress says she will teach me how to make tea tonight. When my Mistress is abroad, it is my duty to keep her camp against intruders, using whatever magics or weapons she has entrusted to me, or my bare fists if she has entrusted me nothing. Mistress adds that she would be unlikely to leave me alone without a weapon anyway, but says that isn't official doctrine." Yumi stumbled a bit over "official doctrine." "When my Mistress is in town, it is my duty to keep her door against strangers, and tell them Mistress is not at home, if she does not wish to be home to them. This would be a lie, but I would tell it if Mistress asked me to. Mistress adds, though this isn't official doctrine either, that it is Mistress's duty to take care of me, and teach me skills that will be useful to me and others, and take me into her lap now and then, and comb my hair, and tell me stories –"

"That's fine, Yumi," Sachiko said, smiling, apparently unembarrassed.

"Yes, Mistress," Yumi said, and went silent again.

The girl had been well-catechized in her duties. Somewhat over-catechized, perhaps.

"Well, congratulations, Sachiko," Youko said at last, as she turned to her writing-table.

"Mmm?" Sachiko said. She was still looking at Yumi, who was now looking at her. The look that they were sharing was not a mistress-famula look.

_Oh, dear._ "Congratulations on your find," Youko went on. "You have capitalized on it quickly. It looks as if you'll be joining us on the Questioning after all, barring any unforeseen complications."

"Will you like to go on a Questioning, Yumi?" Sachiko asked gently.

"Yes, Mistress. What's a Questioning?" Yumi said adorably.

"I'll tell you all about it later," Sachiko said, beaming.

_Oh dear oh dear oh dear._ Mizuno Youko sighed. "Yumi, do you like my garden?"

Yumi looked out at the lush interior garden. "It's beautiful, Mizuno-sama."

"I should like a private word or two with your mistress. Would you mind going out into the garden for a few minutes?"

"...Leave Mistress?" The girl seemed flummoxed, mystified, as if she were being asked to take wing, or live underwater with the fish.

"Only for a few minutes," Youko said with a patient smile. "You'll be right out there and your mistress will be able to see you. In case she has difficulty breathing."

Still, the girl was confused. She looked at Sachiko. Sachiko smiled happily. "I want you to look at the garden, Yumi. I love the garden. It is the only garden of its kind in all Nihon. Later perhaps I can come and look at it with you, and you can tell me all about what you've seen."

Yumi nodded and smiled. "Very well, Mistress." She turned back to Youko. "I will go, Mizuno-sama." She looked again at Sachiko, seemed about to do something, to start some movement; but, seeming to think better of it, made a simple bow, turned, and went out the open panel into the garden.

"Quite a find, Sachiko," Youko said again, giving her imouto a very sharp look.

"Isn't she?" said Sachiko. She looked happier than Youko had ever seen her, the strumpet. She seemed unable to take her eyes off the girl who was now walking slowly through the garden, taking care not to touch anything, but showing great interest in everything. "This morning, I bathed her, and took her shopping for clothes. This afternoon, I taught her basic deportment. Then I brought her to you. She learns very quickly, and from no apparent motivation other than to please me. She makes a mistake now and then, but one gentle reminder – often no more than a look or a sigh – and she'll correct it herself. I have not had to be harsh with her once, which is just as well, because I couldn't bear it."

"You are infatuated with your servant, Sachiko," Youko said bluntly.

Sachiko glared at Youko. "Infatuated? Nonsense! I am merely very fond of the ground on which she walks."

"Sachikoooo! Old bean bun! That was almost a joke!" said Sei, coming out from behind a screen.

* * *

"Please do not call me an old bean bun," said Sachiko sadly. "And good afternoon, Sei-san. And, damn you for an infernal pest, what are you doing here?"

"Never you mind," Sei-san said ominously. "I'm just looking after everyone's best interest, as I am wont to do. What do you think, Youko?" Sei-san and Youko-sama were facing off. They looked almost adversarial, but Sachiko knew they were old friends.

"I think you were right to discuss the matter with me, Sei. Sachiko, Sei worries that you may be being hoodwinked by this girl."

"Oh, I think Sei is wrong about that," Sachiko said, in a gently chiding tone.

Sei-san shook her head. "Love, you see," she said to Youko-sama. "Simple child of nature that she is, she's never felt it before, and it's making a complete fool of her." She faced Sachiko grimly. "Talking turkey here now, young pestilence. Really. Seriously. What do you know about this girl?"

"Not much," Sachiko said. "She says she has no family name, or rather, when I pressed her on that, that she couldn't remember it. She's been living on the streets, and Sei-san will tell you, Youko-sama, how filthy she was when she turned up last night. Bathed and properly dressed, she's like a different person. Teaching her deportment, I seemed not to be teaching her so much as reminding her of things she'd known once, but forgotten. Everything about her suggests that she has been gently reared. Her hands are soft, which tells of a childhood spent among the gentry, or one of the greater merchant or serving families at least. And a filthy horrid disgusting man attempted to rape her at the baths, and she seemed utterly defenseless, and upset, and astonished that this was happening to her – and yet, how has she lived on the street as long as she seems to have done, without having been thoroughly raped already?"

Sei-san, for once, was bemused instead of bemuser – Sachiko felt a quick little snake of triumph coiling in her belly. But Sei-san recovered quickly. "So...you do see that there is something uncanny about her?"

"There are many things uncanny about her, Sei-san," Sachiko said, in a tone of mindless wonder, gazing out at her treasure, who appeared to be attempting conversation with a cat. The cat, white with one black paw and with the corner of its right ear missing, seemed to be agreeable to her overtures, and started rubbing itself against her leg as she stroked its head.

"And yet...you don't think she's deceiving you?"

Sachiko looked around, with the faintly annoyed air of one importuned out of a pleasant trance. "Mmm? No. No, Sei-san, I don't think she has been deceiving me. I don't know just what is going on. I do intend to find out."

"You let her sleep in your room last night," Youko-sama said sternly.

"Yes. And she will sleep in my room tonight, too, and every other night."

"Even though you are meant to be safeguarding a certain important object?"

Sachiko sighed, and opened her pouch. "I thought you would bring this up, and so I brought it with me." She withdrew from the pouch a thing that changed the white of her hand to gold. "Here it is. If you don't trust me, or Yumi, you may by all means lodge it with someone else, and I will bear you no ill-will whatever."

"Sachiko, please put it back. I chose you to bear it for many reasons – not the least of which is that it looks best, with you. I mean for you to present it to her this year, you know."

Sachiko put it back. "I do know. I know that who it is lodged with is an important decision. You did me an honor, placing it with me, and entrusted me with a grave responsibility. I knew that at the time, and I took that responsibility seriously."

Youko-sama looked sad. "And yet you took such a risk? After Sei warned you?"

"A calculated risk, perhaps. I had spent more time with her than Sei-san had, and felt fairly certain I could trust her. It was important to me at any rate not to visibly distrust her, though I took care to place a ward around the cabinet before I slept. And I did that, not because I thought there was danger to it, but because more than my own needs and wishes were at stake there. I awoke this morning, and Yumi still lay beside me. I checked the ward, and it had not been tampered with. Is it acceptable?"

Youko-sama turned slightly away. "I suppose it has to be, Sachiko. I will confess that you took all needful precautions. If the girl is what she seems to be."

Sachiko's gaze on her old teacher did not waver. "She is mysterious, yes. But I don't think she involves deception. Even if she does involve a deception, I don't think that she involves danger. If there is danger, I take full responsibility."

"But, Sachiko –" Youko-sama began.

"If I may?" Sachiko interrupted – a remarkable departure from etiquette, for her. "What I will not do, under any circumstances, is turn my back on her."

Sei-san and Youko-sama both seemed at a loss for words.

Sachiko sighed. "I will grant you, intellectually, the possibility that she is not the person she seems to be. But for myself, I choose to believe in that person. Until she proves herself to be otherwise."

"And if she does?" Youko-sama asked.

"Then it will break my heart."

Youko-sama sighed. Sei-san seemed strangely upset, almost in tears.

"Talk to her for a few minutes," Sachiko said gently. "Try any trick or trap you can think of. See if you don't come to the same conclusion I did: not that she is hiding things, but that things are being hidden from her."

"Do you think she's been glamoured?" Youko-sama asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know. If she has been, I can find no trace of it. But you make it clear that you know what my level of expertise is, and what my qualifications are to make any such declaration, Mizuno-sama."

"I will see if Fujiwara-dono is available for a brief chat," said Youko-sama.

"I should hardly like to trouble Fujiwara-dono," Sachiko said.

"I would not, ordinarily," said Youko-sama, "and she may think me foolish for disturbing her over a trifle. But she is to lead the Questioning this year, and perhaps she would rather be bothered briefly now than seriously inconvenienced later."

Sachiko inclined her head. Youko-sama went out.

"You really are in love with her," Sei-san said.

* * *

Sachiko looked at Sei-san in wonder, and then out at Yumi in greater wonder still. Shimazu Yoshino-chan had joined her out there at some point, and the two of them were taking turns petting the cat and talking to one another. There was a lot of smiling and hands-over-mouths going on. "I hardly know what I feel yet, Sei-san. You are the expert on love –"

"When the wind is northerly and the wild geese have flown," Sei-san said. She stood beside Sachiko, looking out at the budding friendship in the garden.

"All I know is that I have met someone very important to me. More important than my family."

"But do you really buy the sweet-little-miss-needs-protecting schtick?" Sei-san was looking down a skeptical, Dionysian nose now at a calm, Apollonian Sachiko. "If she's really been living on the street for an extended period, she'd have to be very good at protecting herself, or at least putting herself beyond the reach of things she'd need protecting from."

"Yes," Sachiko said. "Like a minnow in a clear pool. You have an excellent point, Sei-san. But I counter that with her tears, last night, when she said she couldn't sleep with me because she had lice. Her grief, shame, humiliation, were very real. Those were not the tears of a street urchin who had never known a better life. But questions on just what sort of life she has led yield nothing substantive. And I'm almost positive she isn't holding back information. She simply doesn't remember."

"Did someone really try to rape her at the baths?"

"Yes," Sachiko said with some brusqueness. That was an unpleasant memory and she had no wish to dwell on it.

"What did you do to him?" Sei-san was looking at her very closely, in a way Sachiko didn't much like.

"I just gave him an itch."

"I thought you'd have flayed him alive."

"I couldn't very well do that with Yumi watching."

"Oh. I see. Hmmm. And she did sleep with you?"

"Of course she did, with a little coaxing. Lice are nothing. They're all dead now anyway."

"You wouldn't have thought so a few years ago."

"A few years ago I hadn't gone on three Questionings, been to the wars once in Koryo, reached Dragon-level sorcery, or lived with Satou Sei-san for an extended period."

"I've never had lice in my life, girl."

"No. I mean that a person who has had to live with you could not regard lice as any great trial."

"So I'm a pestilence, am I?"

Sachiko looked Sei-san fully in the eyes for the first time that day. "Do you want to know what I really think?"

"Sure."

"Then I think that God created you to test the faithful."

Sei-san's smile went away. Then it came back. Then it went away again, all a-sudden, and came back slowly, like the sun from behind a cloud. "You know, I'm not sure, but I think I've just been complimented again."

"You have."


	4. Welcome To the Family

A bit faster this time. Don't know how long I can keep up the once-a-month thing, but I'll do my best. Thanks again to everybody reading this, and thanks especially to Rosa Chinensis for heaping live coals upon my head. The gods of Complete Bastardness will have their say!...

Glossary: "if all the directions out are unlucky, it's best to stay put": There'll be more about this later on, but travel was much restricted in Heian days by the motions of certain malevolent Shinto deities, or kami. If one of these bullyboys was currently occupying the direction you wanted to travel in, it was recommended you either stay put, or pick a luckier direction that wouldn't take you too much out of your way. "The great avenue of Suzaku": Suzaku Oji, or Red Bird Avenue; the main thoroughfare of Heian Kyo, running north-south through the city's center, from the Rasho Mon ("castle gate") on the south to the Suzaku Mon ("Red Bird Gate") leading into the Nine-Fold Enclosure in the north. Suzaku Oji was very broad, about eighty yards, and lined with great willows; it must have been a sight to see in the springtime. "Nanashi": "no-name"; sort of like calling Yumi "Jane Doe." "Sugawara no Michizane": I can only scratch the surface here, unhappily. Sugawara no Michizane was an unusually talented and productive nobleman – an educator of great distinction – who was ultimately disgraced and sent away from the Heian court to be a minor official away in barbaric Kyushu – "the kiss of death, in Heian politics," as Ivan Morris has it – and died in exile. In succeeding years, the capital was visited by a series of natural disasters unusual in severity even for Japan, and it was believed that this was the work of the vengeful spirit of Sugawara. The Emperor had Sugawara posthumously reinstated, and deified, and the problems ceased. As a deity, he still has adherents even today, especially around exam times. His case is a _little_ different from Tsujimoto's. "Yokibito": The good people; or more literally, the fortunate ones; the aristocracy of Heian Kyo, to which Sachiko most decidedly belongs.

* * *

IV. Welcome To The Family

"Not at all, not at all," Fujiwara-dono was saying as she went in, with Youko behind her. She was tall for a woman, almost as tall as Satou Sei, and lean and rangy so she looked taller. She was a bit of a shock to mundane eyes, as ancient as she looked, and as youthfully as she moved. "Don't fuss so, Mizuno-san. You have a pretty good instinct; I don't think you'd bother me over nothing. Oh, I say, young Ogasawara, is it?"

"Give you good day, Fujiwara-dono," Sachiko said with a deep bow.

"And the paddy-brat!" Fujiwara-dono said delightedly. "The brigand! The child of dung and circumstance! Keeping out of trouble, Satou-san? Or rather, d'you have any plans for getting out of it?"

"It's a waiting-game, Fujiwara-dono," Sei said. "Even when it's trouble you're in, if all the directions out are unlucky, it's best to stay put."

Fujiwara-dono laughed uproariously. "That's the spirit! But tell me, what sort of trouble has Ogasawara-kun managed to get herself into, with even such a veteran as yourself at her side?"

"If I _am_ in trouble, Fujiwara-dono, it's my doing alone," Sachiko said a bit stiffly.

"Sa –" Youko was so upset she couldn't find the other syllables momentarily.

Fujiwara-dono waved it away, however. "A cat may look at a king," she said, "and perhaps a freshly-minted dragon may sauce an old monkey, though the dragon should cover its vulnerables well, afterward. Anyhow, let's have a look at this mysterious little famula. I shouldn't waste time like this." She strode out into the garden, the younger sorceresses tumbling along in her wake. As they went, Youko sent Sachiko a Look, which Sachiko pointedly failed to collect.

* * *

"So you're to be Sachiko-sama's imouto? Wonderful! How do you do? I'm Shimazu Yoshino."

The conversation had begun that way, with Yoshino-san just walking up and introducing herself. Yumi remembered Yoshino-san from the previous night. Yoshino-san was a Young Lady, to look at her, and Yumi was shy of her at first; she felt sure that a girl of Yoshino-san's station would look down on her. But Yoshino-san didn't seem to acknowledge any barriers between them, except perhaps the more ordinary barriers people raise as a precaution while they are getting to know one another, and truthfully, Yoshino-san didn't even seem to give _those_ much thought; she hailed Yumi as an inevitable friend and confidante. It was very warming, and Yumi responded to this confidence happily, though with uncertainty... did she know how to be a friend and confidante?

Thinking about where she had been yesterday at this time, filthy and starving on the great avenue of Suzaku, dodging demons left and right, she was filled with astonishment at herself and everything around her. She was clean. She was wearing beautiful clothes. She was in a beautiful garden, with flowers of all kinds and colors, beautiful stones of all shapes, an iridescent pond, and a little waterfall that bubbled. She was currently petting a cat, who was beautiful and clean and friendly, unlike most cats she'd met (she'd always thought cats hated her, until she'd met this one), and talking to this Yoshino-san, who was also beautiful and clean and friendly, but much smarter than the cat, or at any rate a much better conversationalist. Yumi had a little trouble keeping up with Yoshino-san's conversation, but she enjoyed it immensely.

This had really been a strange day. The bath, being naked with Sachiko-sama, and the river demon; and then the shopping spree, which had worried Yumi terribly; she had been sure Sachiko-sama was spending far too much money on her, but on the other hand, Sachiko-sama seemed to be enjoying herself so much that Yumi didn't like to interrupt. Then there was the training session. Learning how to sit and stand and walk and talk properly wasn't all that difficult, though doing these things with "a certain air" was harder. This "air" was the true difficulty, in fact. She seemed ultimately capable of bringing it forth strongly enough that Sachiko-sama praised her, but she was not at all sure how she was doing it. If a man is praised for the smart way he has tied his sash, the first thing he might do is go back over the procedure in an effort to understand what he did, so that he can repeat it and, even if he garners no further praise from it, still add thereby to the number of praiseworthy things there are about himself. But if he tied the sash by habit, then he can't be sure of repeating the motions exactly, and he simply has to trust to said habit – an unchancy partner. And then the next thing he finds is that he cannot tie his sash at all, because he is thinking too hard about how he ties it, and all a-sudden, for the first time in his life, _no_ method for this simple, daily motion seems entirely satisfactory. Even if he should happen to stumble across the exact procedure which caused all the trouble by garnering the praise in the first place, likely he wouldn't recognize it, so self-critical has he become. And so he stands in his chamber, tying and re-tying his sash, muttering to himself, while somewhere nearby, and as far away as the moon, the party proceeds in its pleasant, poetical course, without him. Eventually all his tapers are burnt and he is plunged into darkness, and he continues by moonlight his solemn, futile quest for perfection.

Yumi knew nothing of men's sashes, but when Yoshino-san asked how the training session had gone, she managed to communicate something of this glumness in her reply.

"It's not that bad," Yoshino-san comforted Yumi. "Conveying the proper 'air' or 'feeling' with some action, that's a bit sticky. You can't explain to anyone exactly how you do it. And trusting to habit _is_ dangerous because part of what you have to emanate is a sense of being present in every moment, of full consciousness without obsessive attachment and self-criticism. The tide can come in and go out while you're hunting around for exactly the right shade of refined feeling in a musical phrase, or a poetic phrase, or a brush-stroke in a painting, or in calligraphy. So you just fudge it the best you can in the moment, while people are watching, and make it something you work on in private. You can try for years to get these little things perfect."

Yumi gazed at Yoshino-san in astonished admiration. "You know all about this. You really are a Lady, Yoshino-san. Like Sachiko-sama!"

Yoshino-san laughed sweetly and knelt next to Yumi. The cat, distracted by this motion, put its paws on her knees. She tickled its ears delightedly. "Well, I've had Lady _training_," she owned. "But really, I come of a serving family. Rei-chan and I, our mothers were both in service to the Empress Minako. They were dearer to one another than to the Empress, or her other servants, and they ended up marrying into the same family, so that Rei-chan and I are cousins. Deportment isn't nearly as important among the sorceresses as it is at court. What Sachiko-sama taught you is for ceremonial occasions, in the Guild. If we were in service, however, it would be every day, and every public motion. Just as well we're not. I'm all right at it, but not really good enough for court, and I'd have to work like a dockhand just to be acceptable. Rei-chan is much better at it."

"Rei-chan is? Wasn't she –"

"The bold, wounded warrior of last night, yes. The fool." Yoshino-san seemed to be thinking of something else; she smiled, and blushed, and went on. "I know she doesn't look it, and her reputation doesn't include it – they call her The General. But she's really a very gentle person, Rei-chan. If you know her long enough, closely enough, you'll see a very different kind of person."

"I see."

"That wasn't an invitation, mind you."

Yoshino-san had gone stern all of a sudden; Yumi had a sense of terrifying forces barely held in check.

"Oh, n-no, Yoshino-san – Rei-sama is wonderful, of course –"

"Watch yourself!"

"– and I wouldn't speak against her – but, Sachiko-sama..." Yumi felt herself go red, and she looked away. It felt like impertinence to even speak Sachiko-sama's name, but it also felt wonderful.

"...I see. You like Sachiko-sama. Sorry, Yumi-san. I didn't mean to be harsh with you."

Yumi smiled. "It's all right, Yoshino-san." Yumi could hardly look at Yoshino-san, her face was so kind – she turned away. "I'm not worthy of her. She insists that's foolery, but I feel it. I will try to be worthy. I just –"

"Oh, my. Yumi-san. If _Sachiko-sama_ chose you, then you are worthy. Don't fret about that."

"Do you think so?" Yumi looked at Yoshino-san. "I mean – well, you saw me, last night, Yoshino-san. You know what I was, before she touched me. Do you really think –"

"Really. Don't even think of it, Yumi-san. The Guild looks for magical talent, not for a wealthy upbringing. Rei-chan and I were fairly well-off, but we did come of a serving family. So did Mizuno Youko-sama. Several of the sorceresses I know came from peasant families, for Heaven's sake. And Satou Sei-sama was not only a peasant, but a _foreigner_. Really, don't worrit yourself about it, Yumi-san. You'll only do yourself an injury if you do."

Yumi hung her head a little. "Sorry, Yoshino-san."

Yoshino-san seemed to think a change of subject was in order. "Well, I was telling you Rei-chan is different inside from how she looks on the surface. Sachiko-sama is the same, in her own way. Of course, we're not in Sachiko-sama's class at all. She is a true Lady, and she can seem a bit cold and forbidding. Maybe you've already felt some of that."

Yumi nodded. Sachiko-sama seemed to go from cold to warm, and to cold again without warning. When she had taught Yumi about movement and repose, it had been like the chopsticks all over again, except that Sachiko-sama was... a little gentler. Or rather, she could feel Sachiko-sama _trying_ to be gentler, which wasn't quite the same thing, except it _was_, with Sachiko-sama. The conclusion she was coming to was that Sachiko-sama was a bit like the weather, and her best approach was to take Sachiko-sama as she came. Earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires and all. Like these choice disasters, Sachiko-sama seemed often to be unaware of the extent of her destructive power.

"The benefit there is, you couldn't have a better teacher in deportment. She knows it all, inside and out, and best of all, she doesn't much care for it deep down, so she's able to project just the right air of detachment, insouciance, with maybe just a hint of boredom at how good she is. That's priceless, that is. I know she can be harsh, and difficult. But there is an amazing sweetness and generosity to her, which is completely invisible when she's scowling at you, or even just giving you that blank look which seems to say, 'Come along, this will never do, I know you can make a better effort than this.' I've seen a kind, warm person under all that, and under the really scary fury she can get sometimes."

"So have I!" Yumi blurted.

"So, you know you have to be patient with her. And I can't really tell you how; I've never been her imouto. You have to work it out on your own. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Yoshino-san. Thank you!" Yumi meant it. She knew from Yoshino-san's face and voice that she was rooting for her. She had a friend in Yoshino-san, which she wasn't used to having, but there was a familiar feeling to it all the same. _What does Yoshino-san hope for?_ She wanted to root for Yoshino-san too.

But now, Sachiko-sama and Mizuno Youko-sama and Satou-sama were coming out into the garden, being led by a stranger, an old woman, tall and formidable in appearance.

Sachiko-sama took the lead suddenly, and came straight to Yumi. "Yumi, here is Fujiwara Akiko-dono, a very great sorceress, and a member of our high council. She has a few questions for you."

Yumi was nervous – _what sort of questions?_ – and the old woman was a bit frightening, with her sharp eyes and hooked mouth. But, feeling Sachiko-sama's hand on her shoulder, and seeing Satou-sama's friendly grin, and knowing that Yoshino-san was at her back, supporting her, she thought, _I have nothing to be afraid of._

_

* * *

_

"I am at your service, Fujiwara Akiko-dono," Yumi said, bowing.

"I'd like to take her home and keep her as a pet," Fujiwara-dono murmured. Sachiko's glare was not lost on her; Fujiwara-dono smiled happily. Then she stopped smiling, put a hand to Yumi's forehead, and said, "Close your eyes, Yumi-kun."

Yumi closed her eyes.

The deepest magic is often rather a bore to watch, and it is a point of etiquette with sorceresses to wait in rapt attention while it plays out. This wait was a challenge even for the carefully folded and tempered good manners of Ogasawara Sachiko and Mizuno Youko. Sei, for her part, sat down on a rock, and only managed to stop herself whistling a shanty because the atmosphere really did seem all wrong for it.

The sun, just above the roof when they started, had gone just below it, and the sky was slowly and carefully donning her robes of the evening, before Fujiwara-dono, at last, lifted her hand from Yumi's forehead.

Yumi swayed a little.

Youko prided herself on her own single-mindedness when appropriate, but was still astonished by how quickly and smoothly Sachiko had encircled her little famula, giving her a steadying arm and a comforting hand.

Fujiwara-dono simply stood there, the index finger of her questioning hand meditatively at her lips. She appeared to be staring at the lowest branch of the blossoming cherry tree.

"Fujiwara-dono?" Youko said at last.

"Mmm?" said Fujiwara-dono, in a vaguely discontented tone.

"What do you think?" Sei asked.

"Mysterious girl," was Fujiwara-dono's offhand reply. "Mizuno-san, Ogasawara-kun, will you step along with me now?"

"Yumi is..." Sachiko was helping Yumi to a bench.

"Shimazu-kun, will you be so good?..."

Yoshino sat by Yumi and put an arm around her. "I'll take care of her, Sachiko-sama."

Still Sachiko hesitated. Youko started toward her, furious. But Fujiwara-dono beat her to it somehow; like a breeze soughing to Sachiko's side, she was taking Sachiko's arm with a murmured "May I have the honor?"

Sachiko didn't look at her. "Yumi?" she said.

Yumi looked up. "I'm all right, Mistress," she said. "Just a little dizzy."

"She'll be fine, Sachiko," Youko said. She managed to avoid making it a growl.

Sachiko nodded, and then said, "I am with you, Fujiwara-dono. I apologize for the delay."

* * *

Finding the palace of Kashiwagi the Younger had been easy; Tsujimoto had helped the lad choose the location in the first place. Convincing the servant at the gate that his master would want to see and speak with such a lowlife as himself was hard. It was also hard being treated as a possibly suspicious stranger even after the distant master of the house had acknowledged, apparently in a somewhat reluctant fashion, that he had, once upon a time, known someone by the name of Tsujimoto no Fujito.

And it was hard waiting in this bare, comfortless room. No cushion, no brazier. One or two wall hangings. A room for low-level conferences.

At long last, the inner door slid open, and a shadow emerged, walked forward, and seated itself on the floor, facing Tsujimoto, about ten paces away. The shadow seemed familiar, but Tsujimoto couldn't have sworn to the resemblance. The shutters were all closed. This conversation would be conducted in gloom, apparently.

"Could you not even light a taper?" he asked the shadow, assuming for the sake of bloody-mindedness that it was who he thought it was. "Strange, that my first conversation with you in over a year should be in such murk!..."

"I wish to be as much of not-having-this-conversation as is possible, consistent with the regrettable necessity of having this conversation," said the very familiar voice, much less familiarly than Tsujimoto had been used to hear it. "So it _is_ you. I thought Benkei must have lost his mind for good, the poor man..."

"Is it so strange that I should come to visit you? Though I realize it has been some little time."

"It is strange, macabre, decidedly unexpected that a man who has been banished from the Imperial City should suddenly turn up within walking distance of the Red Bird Gate, yes. I'm trying to remember the last time a banished nobleman returned to the Capital without being expressly invited by the Emperor. Sugawara no Michizane is the only one who springs to mind, and his was rather a special case. Are you contemplating an ascent to godhood?"

"No, my sly little brother, merely a return to the place I truly belong. I need leverage to do it, and I have been seeking leverage. I would have got in touch with you earlier, but I didn't want to embarrass you. A former benefactor, now disgraced, clinging pitifully to one's sleeve – is there anything more dreary? And I was trying to arrange things on my own. Today, however, there is a way you can help me, and so I came to try if you have any little reverence left for a man who once offered you a strong arm in a –"

"This _is_ pitiful, aniki. Will you tell me just what it is you want of me?"

"Like that, eh? No chit-chat with minions. I'm to just tell you, without embellishment, and you'll say yes or no, and dismiss me?... Without even offering me so much as a –"

The door opened, and Tsujimoto fell quiet.

It was Benkei, and he had brought sake. He served both men quickly, and departed. Tsujimoto did not deign to look at the man, after the way he'd been treated at the gate.

Tsujimoto decided not to acknowledge the interruption. "Let me tell you about what I have been trying to do," he said.

He did this, with an economy he hoped would make Suguru feel cheap.

Suguru heard his aniki's story with skepticism, to start with, gradually turning to dismay. It had given him no little dismay that Fujito had turned up in the first place – a man he had always admired, a man who had given Suguru much useful help and advice when Suguru was still new to courtly life, but a man whose approach to problem-solving was often extravagant. He had expected some crack-brained scheme, but soon found that his aniki had exceeded expectation. _Sachiko..._ he breathed to himself.

"So, have you any thoughts on the matter?" Fujito-san asked when his tale was done, without so much as a pause. "Why would she be buying this girl clothes when the girl crept into her room only last night to try to steal from her?"

"Why, I don't know," Suguru said, mastering himself after only a brief pause. "I do know that her ill-tempered, occasionally frightening exterior conceals a heart that can be generous to a fault; I have known that since we were children together. And truthfully, she would have nothing to fear from such a thief, once caught, so if the thief made some appeal, by cunning or good fortune, to her generosity, it could easily happen. What concerns me more is your unbelievably gross breach of form."

"What?"

"Aniki, you have gone too far," Suguru clarified coldly.

"What?" Tsujimoto said impatiently. "What is this that you think you're saying to me? What did I do that's so awful, you young whelp?"

"Sending a thief to steal from my fiancée – and my dear cousin? Hiring some churl off the street to enter her bedchamber under cover of darkness? I think that qualifies as 'going too far.' What in the world were _you_ thinking?"

"Suguru, I'm in a corner!" Tsujimoto burst out. "I need to get back in the Emperor's good graces, and I need that damned whatever-it-is to do it. What is it, anyway? Some kind of jewelry? It's fiendishly valuable, by all accounts; it's vital to the contract between the Emperor and the Sorceress's Guild. And it's currently in your cousin's possession. They're leaving soon, on this ridiculous expedition, and goodness knows if they will even come back! The thing could be lost forever!"

"This _is_ a journey the guild undertakes every year," Suguru informed his sempai. "Sachiko herself has been away on Questionings twice that I know of. I don't see anything too dreadful happening. You could have waited until their return, and then had a try at using your filthy compatriots to steal it from the Guild proper, once it had gone back into their holding. This would still be pretty low behavior, unworthy of anyone who aspired to be one of the Yokibito, or even to clean their shoes, but it would at least have had this advantage: that it would not have required you to send some goblin into my cousin's rooms to grub about in her private possessions with his filthy fingers, and perhaps not even limit himself to her possessions –"

"Damn your insolence! Anyway, the thief was a girl, not a grown man, as I told you. I'm pretty desperate, but I think I know what is owing to a friend such as you. I would never send a man into your cousin's room!"

"Excellent. So that's all right, then." Suguru took a sip of sake. His voice had a peculiar tremor Tsujimoto had heard only a few times in all their association: Suguru was concealing a terrible anger.

"Suguru, will you _please_ let up on me? I'm doing my best in a difficult situation, and –"

"No. You are not doing your best. I'm not even so angry on Sachiko's behalf. My cousin is no ordinary noblewoman. If even the roughest of men went into her chambers specifically to take advantage of her, he would be lucky to come out with all his doings intact. It's not so much that you took such a course of action, as that you even considered it in the first place. Better men than you have known how to take exile. You either go away and live the life of a nobleman and a poet, in exile, or you find an honorable way to return to your Emperor's favor. Unless you're Tsujimoto no Fujito. Then you try to cheat and steal your way back into favor, and send lackeys to skulk about in noblewomen's bedchambers in the dead of night –"

"Enough! You do not dare to say such things about me!" Tsujimoto had leapt to his feet.

"Why not? It's what future generations will say about you." Suguru was quite calm now.

Tsujimoto sat back down. All the starch seemed to have gone out of him, like that. "Suguru, please just help me and don't natter at me so about trivialities..."

Suguru looked at his older friend, his aniki as-was. _Still my aniki?..._ The last year had not been kind to Tsujimoto no Fujito, and his once-comely features had taken on a haggard, pinched look. In better days, he had looked after Suguru well, and had carefully ignored his painful yearnings, and that had always been a disappointment, but somehow he had still hoped...

_No,_ Suguru told himself firmly. _The man you wanted was the man you met when you were fifteen years old. That man is gone, somewhere, and this untidy stranger has taken his place... Was aniki ever real to begin with? Or did I dream him?_

"I don't know what you think I can do about any of this," Suguru said at last. "I don't know any thieves, unlike you. You're much better placed for hiring one than I. My cousin and I have been on delicate terms since around the time she started growing breasts, and if I so much as approach her she's immediately on her guard. So what do we do?"

"Can you make any excuse to see her before she goes into the wilds?"

"In fact, the Dance is tomorrow, and the Guild is expected to send a delegation into the Enclosure. I imagine she'll be along. I think she's the only Ogasawara the Guild currently has. Why?"

"You will speak to her?"

"I _have_ to speak to her. A family matter. What do you –"

"That girl will be with her. The beggar-girl, the tramp. Can you spirit her away?"

Suguru stared.

"I need to talk to her."

"Aniki, what earthly good is that going to do?"

"She's supposed to be stealing that egg for me –"

"You said yourself that you followed them. They were shopping together. Sachiko was buying her _clothes_. For good or ill, Sachiko has taken her under her wing. The girl has had the most marvellous stroke of good luck imaginable: Sachiko has caught her, forgiven her, and given her a place, and I can testify that anyone under _Sachiko's_ protection has little to fear from the run of humanity. Why should the girl then go ahead and steal the egg for you? Trade in this great good luck she's had – for what? You were going to give her the price of a meal, weren't you?"

"I have my ways. Suguru, please just do this thing for me. The Dance is usually held in the open area southwest of the Pure and Fresh Palace, is it not? There must be all sorts of places around there you could take her to, which would be relatively uninhabited, with everybody else at the Dance. Bring the girl to a place we will arrange; I will be waiting; I will take care of the rest."

"Aniki –"

"Yes. 'Aniki.' I am asking you this as your elder brother."

Suguru sat there. He was stuck. There were all sorts of things he was sure Fujito wasn't telling him. With all he did know, he could see no way this enterprise could come to any good. But he was still obliged to Tsujimoto no Fujito too many ways to refuse him.

* * *

"Remarkable," was the first thing Fujiwara-dono murmured when they were out of earshot. She, Sachiko, and Youko were walking around the perimeter of the garden, leaving Yumi, Yoshino-chan, and Sei on the bench at its center.

"What is remarkable, Fujiwara-dono?" Sachiko asked.

"The fact that she is _your_ famula, coupled with how completely hers you are. She is also devoted to you, but that's natural in a famula, or at least a state devoutly to be wished for. Usually the devotion does not run so strongly the other way. Do you wonder about that, Ogasawara-kun?"

"No," Sachiko said. She ignored a glare from Youko. "To be brutally honest, no, I don't wonder about it at all. Does it seem suspect or, or dangerous, to you for some reason, Fujiwara-dono?"

"By itself, it wouldn't," said Fujiwara-dono, with a mildness that seemed not to acknowledge the understated yet undeniable hostility in Sachiko's manner. "And it doesn't really seem suspect or, or dangerous in context with its little friends, just faintly worrying."

"Is there anything amiss with Yumi?" Youko asked, with a meaning look at Sachiko, hoping her dear imouto would not speak again until she had herself under control.

"No," Fujiwara-dono said, pausing to subject a dogwood blossom to what seemed like a thoroughgoing critical examination. "Actually, what does seem amiss is how little there is that seems amiss. I've seldom encountered such an untroubled mind, and I wouldn't have expected it in someone who had been living on the street until yesterday. She's a sweet, goodhearted girl. She's determined to do her best for you, Ogasawara-kun, whatever tasks you lay upon her. She met you less than a day ago, and yet you are at the center of her thoughts, as if you had always been there. All roads lead to Sachiko-sama!... It's all seamlessly there in her head. Too believable to be quite believable. I would give a monkey to have been able to examine her yesterday before she met you. _Two_ monkeys, indeed! and a dragon thrown in!..."

"But is she dangerous?" Youko insisted.

"Hm. If there's danger in that head, it's been hidden there by someone much cleverer than I. I suppose she might cause trouble without meaning to, but there's never been a less duplicitous spirit. The only thing that bothers me about that non-duplicitousness is that it crops up in the last place you'd expect to find it: in a girl off the streets who suddenly becomes famula to a Dragon-level sorceress on the eve of a Questioning. Do you take my meaning, here, Ogasawara-kun?"

"I apologize if my manner has been at all offensive, Fujiwara-dono." Sachiko seemed to have regained her composure.

"My girl, I haven't the faintest idea what you mean." There was a gentle smile on Fujiwara-dono's gentle face.

* * *

"Is Mistress in trouble?" Yumi-san asked.

"No," Yoshino told her. "I don't think so." She was worried. Yumi-san had been so happy, before, and such pleasant company. Now she was disturbed, restless, and Yoshino couldn't figure out how to comfort her. They had watched the colloquy circumambulating the garden, and it was clear that Sachiko-sama and Youko-sama were at odds with one another, and Fujiwara-dono was relentlessly pursuing some point that seemed important to her. Yumi-san seemed to be very sensitive to their motions – she followed with her eyes the rises and the sweeps of their disputing hands – and she seemed certain that the dispute was about herself.

"Am I causing problems for her?" Yumi-san's wide eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Yumi-san, enough," Yoshino said, squeezing her shoulder. "She'll be fine. Youko-sama is her teacher, her big sister, her friend. Fujiwara-dono is a great sorceress and a just person. Even if, well, she is a bit strange."

"Yoshino's right," Sei said. She had been listening to this little Yumi witter about Sachiko for several minutes now, had found it alternately tiresome and amusing, and had decided that she liked Yumi a lot, and unfortunately her preferred procedure for relating to a girl she liked a lot was now asserting itself. "They're probably just going to set her on fire, a little. Nothing to worry about."

"No! No, no –" Yumi looked horrified.

"Sei!" Yoshino's glare promised Sei's destruction.

"You mustn't worry, little sweetheart," Sei said happily. "Sachiko's been set on fire a great many times. She can tough it out."

* * *

"This girl, and this girl alone, is to be your famula?" Fujiwara-dono wanted clarification.

"More," Sachiko said. "I would like to make her my soror mystica, as soon as she knows enough magic to pass the entrance exam."

"She has talent?" Youko raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't tested her yet, but I think she does, yes. Like calls to like. But I don't know how much."

"Hum!" Fujiwara-dono said, apropos of nothing obvious.

Sachiko sighed. "I wanted very much to come on the Questioning. Youko-sama had a particular duty she wanted me to perform. But I fear, Fujiwara-dono, that if my choice is between casting Yumi off, or sitting out the Questioning –"

"– you're staying home," Youko broke in impatiently. "I know, Sachiko. You made that clear before. And I don't think you're wrong to take that stand. In fact I'm pleased to hear you take it; if Yumi's your imouto, she should be as important to you as you were to me. Even so, your behavior –"

"Girls, girls," said Fujiwara-dono in faintly shocked tones. "There is no need for anyone to sit out the Questioning. I should be most pleased to see young Yumi come along. As for her becoming your soror mystica, Ogasawara-kun, I think you might profitably wait on that until we get back from the Sun Gorge, but there's nothing against teaching her magic – indeed, from my examination of her, Mizuno-san, I can say that she does seem to have some potential. You could start on that right away, for all of me. She is going to need another name, of course. Has she no family name?"

"None that she remembers," Sachiko said, regarding Fujiwara-dono with some disquiet. "She doesn't even seem to remember what town she might have come from."

"Very well, then. We can investigate that later. Just call her Nanashi, for now. Dear little Nanashi Yumi. Can she sing?"

"Yes," Sachiko said softly. "Not a trained voice, but a voice worth training. Sweet and pure, like a little bird."

Youko sighed discontentedly.

"Excellent," said Fujiwara-dono. "Very well, then –"

"But Fujiwara-dono," Youko said. "What about – what you were saying –"

"That is still a concern. It is good that you are concerned about it, Mizuno-san. I am concerned about it also. So long as we are concerned, and aware, we will not be likely to be surprised by any developments, should they develop. You follow?"

"Perhaps," Youko said, desperately hoping that this was indeed the case. "But if – if there's any possibility, however vague, of danger – you don't think it would be safer to simply leave them at home?"

"In Heian Kyo?" Fujiwara-dono's scraggly grey eyebrows shot up. "The seat of the Emperor? With all the most powerful wizards, except Ogasawara-kun, out of town?"

Youko felt an abyss open up inside her. Sachiko got a most peculiar expression on her face, and turned away. _She...why, she's laughing at me, in Heaven's name. Ogasawara Sachiko is having a bout of uncontrollable mirth._

Youko was so astonished by this that she forgot to be offended.

Fujiwara-dono was giving Youko a mild, patient look. "I...had not thought of it that way," Youko said, pulling herself together. "Very well, then. But, Fujiwara-dono, the person closest to the danger, if danger there be, will be Sachiko. Do you trust her with such a responsibility?"

"She's your imouto. Do you?" was Fujiwara-dono's response.

"I trust her with many things. She is powerful, as you say, and she seems to grow more skillful by the day, and she takes great care in how she discharges her duties, or, well, most of the time. But..." Youko hated the look Sachiko was giving her. It was a calm, understanding look. Youko would have felt better had the look contained some of the hatred and derision she felt she deserved.

* * *

"One time, Sachiko caught a shooting star in her mouth and spat it back at God. Fire is nothing to her. They'll really only set her on fire because they love to watch her defy the fire demons. Really, Yumi. Please don't cry," Sei was saying. She was beginning to wonder if shutting up would be a good idea. If Yumi was still crying when Sachiko came back, why, the Ogasawara might throw a bit of a wobbler.

"Th – they m – m – mustn't –" Yumi was barely coherent.

"Yumi, Sei _lies_," Yoshino said. "She lies _all the time_. She can't help it. And it's not because she's a bad person. She's a very good person. She just has no self-control."

"That's right!" Sei cried. "That's absolutely right! No self-control! I've chided myself for it, many a time! I'm impossible, Yumi! Or at least highly unlikely! Just ask Sachiko!" Sei was scrabbling desperately in various pockets, to see if she had any sweets.

* * *

"Ogasawara-kun," said Fujiwara-dono, turning to address Sachiko.

"Yes, Fujiwara-dono," said Sachiko, in a ready-to-know-your-will-with-me posture.

"You understand that Mizuno-san isn't trying to undermine you or do the dirty on you in any way whatever? She's only worried about you."

"I understand that, Fujiwara-dono." She gave Youko a loving look, and Youko's shame deepened.

"I'm not worried about you, however," Fujiwara-dono went on.

"No, Fujiwara-dono?"

"You're the sort of person who tends to land on her feet. Not that you never make mistakes, but it's rare, and even when you do, things usually work out so that you don't have to pay for them. Others are more than happy to pay for you."

"Oh?..."

"But, and this is what I like about you, you're not content to just sit back and let them. Anyway, the worst thing about you is that I can't always trust you to know what's right."

"Really..."

"Really! Mind you, I do trust you to _do_ the right thing. You will always try to do the right thing, and this is simply a thing about you. It's just that I don't trust you to always know what the right thing _is_."

"I see."

"But your friends – especially Satou-san – _will_ know. And they will tell you. So that all works out well."

"Perhaps...I am dreaming," Sachiko said hesitantly, after a stunned pause, "or perhaps there was some vile drug in the tea Youko-sama gave me earlier, but I thought you said you trusted Satou-san to know better than I what was right."

Fujiwara-dono's face sharpened to terrifying alertness. "Mizuno-san?"

"Yes, Fujiwara-dono?"

"Did you drug Ogasawara-kun's tea?"

"...I did not, Fujiwara-dono."

"Oh. That's all right, then." Fujiwara-dono's face relaxed again. "And I'm pretty sure you're not dreaming, Ogasawara-kun; after all, what would _I_ be doing in _your_ dream? Unless it were a nightmare, of course..."

"Ogasawara-kun's astonishment is not unnatural, Fujiwara-dono," Youko said gently. "I share it, for one." Satou Sei was a dear good friend to Youko, but not a person she would ordinarily look to for moral arbitrement.

Fujiwara-dono chuckled good-naturedly. "Oh, I realize that Satou-san's approach is, as a whole, and taking one part with another, as you might say – _individual_. Rather. But you may, one day, know what I am talking about."

"I suppose I may," Sachiko said, a bit doubtfully.

"And when you do, please tell me," Fujiwara-dono added, smiling at nothing in a friendly way. "I would be interested to know."

Youko looked at Sachiko. Sachiko looked at Youko.

"You'll be the first one we tell, Fujiwara-dono," Youko said carefully.

Sachiko's expression changed. She was staring at the middle of the garden.

"Sachiko?..." Youko wondered.

"What in Heaven's name?...She's _crying_!" Sachiko broke into a most unladylike run, her robes flapping behind her as she went.

Youko stood with Fujiwara-dono, watching Sachiko go.

"Your chick is leaving the nest, Mizuno-san," said Fujiwara-dono.

"She has been, for some time."

"When does it start? I've often wondered..."

"I haven't your fullness of experience, Fujiwara-dono. With Sachiko, it started almost immediately. She was always somewhere else, it seemed."

"Yes. With all she's learned, she has yet to learn to just be where she is."

"Hers was an unhappy home," Youko said defensively.

"How many people have a happy home? We are all born with a father and a mother. And, for some reason, we are all born expecting them to be perfect. They're just people, though, doing the best they can. What a pity. She didn't like the look of the marriage they arranged for her. I've never married, but I've known a lot of women who did, and I don't think I ever knew one who didn't have some complaint. And most of our sorceresses leave the Guild while they're still marriageable, and tell us it wasn't what they'd wanted it to be. Being a sorceress is no good, being a wife is no good. So take your vows and have your head shaved. What the hell do they all expect of life?"

"I really don't know, Fujiwara-dono. They're all mad, I expect." Youko sometimes wondered whether Fujiwara-dono had _ever_ been young, but positing that she had, doubted the old lunatic could have expressed such an opinion in her youth. The Fujiwaras were reputedly a difficult family, and uncompromising about conjoining their daughters with whomever seemed expedient, particularly key members of the Imperial family, no matter how feckless, or hideous, or clearly-only-five-years-old they might be. The Fujiwaras were most assiduous and implacable practitioners of the art of marriage politics. Fujiwara-dono must have only just escaped... Just at the edge of hearing, a stern Sachiko was calming a weeping Yumi while facing off an only-half-repentant Sei, as a miserable Yoshino looked on. "You are not allowed to speak to her ever again," Sachiko was telling Sei. "Do you really think Sei is a good guide for her?" Youko went on. "In practical matters, of course, she couldn't do much better. But in moral ones?"

"There is gradation in all things, and we attach levels of importance to different questions. In the minor things, perhaps not, but I don't expect Ogasawara-kun will be facing many of those in the immediate future. And Satou-san...well, I wouldn't trust Satou-san with my jewelry. But I'd trust her with my sister. Do you understand?"

Youko thought about it, and thought that might have been the sanest thing Fujiwara-dono had ever said in her presence.

* * *

Tsujimoto no Fujito stood still on the porch of the small, rude dwelling he shared with Shinji-kun and the ailing Ichiki-san.

The door was open, and through it he could see Shinji-kun, seated, and speaking with a smaller man, also seated, and facing him. It was a very intense conference, as they were leaning close to one another. There was a gleam in Shinji-kun's eye which Tsujimoto did not like at all.

Carefully, Tsujimoto turned around, and was going to step off the porch – if he stood under the eaves, by the shutters, he might be able to have a discreet listen –

"Where are you _going_, Tsuji-sama?"

He looked back. Shinji-kun was still facing the other man. He had not moved at all, as far as Tsujimoto could tell.

"I... er..."

"Come in, I beg, Tsuji-sama. Join the conversation, if it please you."

Warily, Tsujimoto complied. Shinji-kun was satirizing courtly speech. The arrangement had always been that Tsujimoto would take Shinji-kun and Ichiki-san along when he returned to courtly life, that they would be his servants, and so he had taught them things that it would be useful for them to know when this state was obtained. But Shinji-kun was acting more and more lately like a man who knew all that, and didn't care.

Shinji-kun, on Tsujimoto's right, was facing east, and the stranger was facing west. Tsujimoto sat between and to the north of them, facing south.

There was a silence, after he sat. He waited. Shinji-kun had asked him to join in, so he would wait for Shinji-kun to speak first. In old times, when he was a courtier, he would likely have started speaking first, so as to take the initiative in whatever struggle was afoot, but out here he had learned to be cagier.

"Try the wine," Shinji-kun said.

There _was_ wine, a largish flask and a few little cups, on the floor between them. Tsujimoto hadn't liked to take it uninvited, considering that he seemed to be on such thin ice around here, lately. But now he took the flask. Cool, though not cold. He poured himself a cup, to the brim. He tossed it back.

"Excellent," he pronounced it. He wasn't lying. It wasn't as good as the sake he'd drunk with Suguru a little earlier, but it was much better than he'd expected to ever drink in this house.

"I'm glad you appreciate it, a man of your _education_," Shinji-kun said sardonically. "I thought it was _raaather_ good, though I suspect you've had much better. I was saving it for a special occasion, an occasion I now fear will never come to pass. So I may as well drink it up now! I have a feeling that sake and friendly little parties will soon be a thing of the past with me."

Tsujimoto was irked by Shinji-kun's behavior, but was not currently in a position where he could resent it with complete freedom, and anyway, he wanted to know what was on Shinji-kun's mind. So he waited some more.

"Toshi-san here is a thief, like us, Tsuji-sama. He's been telling me interesting things. It's like Aniki always told me: there are wheels within wheels, things are always moving, hopping, happening, where we can't see, things we'd love to know if only... and here comes Toshi-san, _telling_ us. Usually we can't hope for a Toshi."

"People _wouldn't_ hope for Toshi, normally," Toshi-san opined.

"Perhaps not, no more than they'd hope for me or Ichiki-sama," Shinji agreed. "But tell Tsuji-sama what you've been telling me, Toshi-san."

"Aaaah!" Toshi-san turned a slightly cockeyed gaze upon Tsujimoto, who tried to look pleased by this unexpected benison. "The fast-and-rude version, as I fear Shinji-san's patience was tried a bit before, by my wandering mind –"

"Not at all," Shinji-kun interposed.

"– but what it amounts to is, you've been rumbled, old mate. The sorceress Satou Sei is on your trail, Tsuji-sama. And even if I don't tell her where you are, she _will_ find you. She's not one to give up, she's not one to miss anything, she's no-one you want to cross."

"And yet! Here is Toshi-san, crossing her," Shinji-kun interposed again. He tossed back some sake. "Hoooo!"

"I prefer to think of it as keeping my options open," Toshi-san said. "I know Ichiki-san a little, and we've been friendly, and he's cut me in on a good thing, here and there, over the years. I thought I ought to at least mention that Satou is a-hunting of you. She's much more interested in you, Tsuji-sama. But if she went for you, Shinji-san or Ichiki-san might get caught in her net as well, and I wouldn't be happy to have that on my conscience. So I come here to pass the word. And I find poor Ichiki-san's not doing so well."

"Cut down, in the prime of life. The best man I ever knew," Shinji-kun said morosely. More sake. No "Hoooo!" this time. Much of his buoyant venom seemed to have deserted him suddenly.

"Do you want me to leave, Shinji-kun?" Tsujimoto asked. He wanted this clear. He would prefer to keep his place here, if possible, but had more confidence he could get along on his own now than a year earlier, and he wanted to keep his dignity.

"No! Not at all! Heaven forfend!" Shinji-kun said overdramatically. Tsujimoto couldn't tell if it was the sake, or Shinji-kun's heavy-handed sense of satire reasserting itself. "Toshi-san, you see, has given us this information out of the goodness of his heart, and a sense of camaraderie. But he can't tell us specifics, as to the Satou woman's plans for us, or assist us in any other way, without some remuneration on our part. The Satou woman has already given him earnest money, you see. Only those stupid little coins, but they _can_ be traded for rice, if you know where to go. But you see, if _we_ give him something too, then we can enlist him on our side, and he can tell us more. So, you going to give him something?"

"_I_ have to give him something?" Tsujimoto said quickly.

"It is you the sorceress is after," Shinji-kun replied, just as quickly.

Tsujimoto gave Shinji-kun a hard look, and decided he wasn't as drunk as he appeared to be. "I don't have a lot of rice at the moment," he said doubtfully.

"Doesn't have to be rice," Toshi-san said gently. "The foreign woman didn't give me rice, after all. Some item of equivalent value will do the trick nicely."

"I think I can arrange that," Tsujimoto said, consideringly. "I just need to pay someone a visit, Shinji-kun." He stood.

"Not a problem," said Shinji-kun, pouring yet more sake. "Give old Keiko my greetings, while you're there."

Tsujimoto managed not to so much as break stride on his way out. So Shinji-kun knew where he had been lodging his valuables. Fine. He could see he wasn't trusted. If he could turn things around – and he was sure he still could, especially if old Keiko was willing to help him with her particular skills, as well as produce his valuable linen – he wasn't sure he'd want Shinji-kun as a servant. Even if he still liked Shinji-kun, he didn't think Shinji-kun would make a good servant. Still, he'd have to be sure to give him _something_. That was only fair. A kick on his uppity bottom suggested itself...

* * *

The common room in the little suite occupied by the sorceresses' contingent at the Mountain Lily Inn contained one feature not shared by the other rooms in that establishment: a small portable stove.

Tea was one of many cultural items that had been imported from China en masse, centuries earlier, and one of the ones that had never caught on in Nihon. It was a taste, however, that many sorceresses picked up in their travels, and Sei-san, Rei-san, and Sachiko all had a definite appreciation for the stuff. But however they wheedled Goben the innkeeper, he always found some very polite way of declining to serve them tea. They didn't know exactly why he was so set against an apparently harmless infusion, but Sei-san suspected that, to him, the leaves simply had a foreign smell, and he didn't like them in his kitchen.

They had permission to have certain equipment, including the stove, in their rooms, because such an item was occasionally of use in their studies. But the stove was mainly used by them for boiling water and pouring it over dried leaves. And Yumi, the newest member of this little coven, was currently engaged in learning this subversive, dangerous art.

Yumi brought the tea to the kotatsu, carefully balancing the tray. She set it down. She poured five cups. She knelt at last at the corner, next to Sachiko.

Everyone tasted the tea.

"Excellent," was Sei-san's opinion.

"I love this blend," Yoshino-chan said. "Strong and wild-tasting."

"It's from Tenjiku," Sachiko said.

"It's good," Rei-san said. "Well-steeped, flavorful. And piping hot."

"Yes." Sachiko smiled. "Well done, Yumi."

"Thank you, Mistress!"

"Have a sip from your own, why don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress." Yumi carefully took her cup as Sachiko had shown her, and sipped.

Rei-san and Sei-san moved into an easy discussion of the coming expedition and what sort of equipment would be required. Yoshino-chan occasionally chimed in. Yumi watched and listened, Sachiko noted, with some alertness and worry.

"I haven't explained to you yet," she said, turning to Yumi.

"Mistress?"

"About the Questioning. I was going to tell you later. It's later."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, it involves leaving the Capital. We will be going northeast, into the wilds of eastern Honshu."

"Really?" Yumi was still, and then shivered a little. "Aren't there monsters there, Mistress?"

"A few," Sachiko said, laying a hand on Yumi's knee.

"I won't...get eaten?"

Sachiko laughed, and raised her hand to Yumi's hair, which was loosened now from its barrette. It was smooth, silky. "Yumi, leaving the capital is always dangerous. If you or I went into the wilds alone, getting eaten would always be a possibility. But we are not going alone. We are going with the united might of the Dragon Order. So your chances of getting eaten are about nil, as long as you stick with me."

Ah, she had touched Yumi, fool that she was, and it was difficult to stop touching Yumi once she had started... She deliberately brought the hand back to her own knee.

Yumi folded her hands in her own lap, and looked at her knees.

This was serious. Sachiko had to explain this; it was her duty to inform Yumi... She looked about. There were rice crackers on the table. Yumi liked those, but apparently still didn't feel right about taking anything she hadn't been bidden to take. The rice crackers would help. "Very well," Sachiko went on. "We will be travelling to a particular mountain. This mountain has a deep gorge running down one side, and water falling down it. About halfway up this gorge, there is a cave. A very wise person lives in this cave. A descendant of Amaterasu's, through a different line than the Emperor, or so it is rumored. Best not to talk about that much, though."

"Yes, Mistress."

Sachiko took a rice cracker and put it to Yumi's lips. Yumi gently bit off half of it. Sachiko ate the rest.

"This wise person will come out of her cave. She will ask the Grand Mugwump what she does here, with the full dragon waving like a banner behind her. The Grand Mugwump – Youko-sama, you met her to-day –"

"Dragon Order Grand Mugwump Dragon Sorceress Winging Cranes Mizuno Youko-sama, Mistress," Yumi affirmed.

That earned Yumi another half a cracker.

Once Sachiko had finished her own half, she said, "Yes, Yumi. Youko-sama. She will say that she has come to make the Questioning, with her order for witness. The wise person will say, then let us make it, hook or crook."

"And then, Mistress?"

"Then we sing."

"What?"

Sachiko smiled at Yumi's astonishment. "Well, Fujiwara-dono and Youko-sama, perhaps with a few chosen assistants – though they're not obligated to take anyone with them – will sit at the fire with the wise person and try conclusions, play with her at question-and-answer. But the rest of us will spend most of the next two days singing." Sachiko had another cracker at the ready. "Can you guess why, Yumi?"

"I really don't know, Mistress..." Yumi frowned at the kotatsu, and then looked up hopefully at Sachiko. "Is it because the wise person _likes_ singing?"

Sachiko gasped. "Very good! Oh, there are other reasons, rituals, and so forth, but that _is_ the main reason. You're clever, Yumi..." Sachiko's errant hand went again to Yumi's cheek as she fed her the cracker. Yumi closed her eyes at the touch.

They both became aware of tittering, and turned their heads. Yoshino-chan had a hand to her mouth. Rei-san was smiling gently. Sei-san's pleasant scarred face was somewhat open-mouthed, with a considering frown above the open mouth.

"What _is_ the matter?" Sachiko wondered irritably.

"Nothing," Rei-san said, sighing sweetly.

"Nothing's the matter, really," Yoshino-chan piped up.

"Good..." Sachiko turned to Sei-san.

"You feed her crackers in a way that makes me feel I shouldn't be watching," Sei-san said bluntly.

"Then you are invited not to watch," Sachiko answered stiffly.

"I am invited not to watch the goddess of Love descend in a pink cloud with cherubim and seraphim harping and horning her to earth. Very _well_, then." Sei-san rolled her eyes and turned her head away theatrically.

"Sachiko-sama, I've never seen you like this," Yoshino-chan giggled. "It's adorable."

Sachiko blushed. "Th – that's enough of that!" She felt considerably put out. These were her friends, the best – the only – friends she had, but she was used to more respect from them, more distance. She turned her glare upon Yumi –

_– no, don't glare at Yumi! –_

– but Yumi was looking carefully at the bit of straw mat between them.

"Shall I make more tea, Mistress?" Yumi asked.

Sachiko sighed, her dignity restored somehow. "Please do, Yumi. Thank you."

Yumi rose and crossed the room to the stove.

"You shouldn't take it out on Yumi-san, Sachiko-sama," Yoshino-chan said quietly.

"Eh? Take what out on her? I didn't!" Sachiko hissed.

"You didn't," Sei-san agreed, "but it was a near thing. Hmmm. Yumi already knows you that well. Isn't that interesting?"

"_Are_ you going to teach her, Sachiko?" Rei-san asked quickly.

Sachiko was a bit bewildered by the shift in topic. "Teach her?... Of course. She must serve me..."

"Magic," Rei-san clarified. "Yoshino told me about what happened with Fujiwara-dono earlier."

"I see. Yes, I mean to teach her what I can. We're going to make a start on it tomorrow morning."

"What will you teach her?" Yoshino-chan was eager to hear.

"Everything I know," Sachiko said drily, "but we'll start with a few little things that will be practical for the journey."

"Will you mind if I make a few little suggestions that way?" Sei-san sounded more cautious than Sachiko was used to hearing her. Rei-san and Yoshino-chan looked at her curiously.

"I've mostly planned the lesson," Sachiko said, "but I'll be happy to hear your suggestions, Sei-san."

She found her three good friends staring at her, then looking away so as to avoid rudeness. They hadn't been expecting to hear that, it seemed.

...She'd been putting this off. It would hurt, and it would cost her, but her own needs were not important at this time.

"Sei-san. Rei-san. Yoshino-chan. I'm... bad at dealing with people."

Sei-san's eyebrows went up. Yoshino-chan had to stifle another giggle. "Yoshino!" Rei-san hissed.

Steeling herself, Sachiko went on. "I was much worse when I first came here from my father's house. The three of you... well, you put up with a lot from me, and you taught me a lot, and somehow... well, probably you were only doing what seemed natural to you. I doubt I'm very important to you..."

They looked faintly appalled. She had difficulty looking at them now. Mostly staring at the kotatsu, she went on:

"Yumi is already better at dealing with people than I will probably ever be. But she may need your help in other ways. She may need some kinds of help that... I wouldn't be able to give her."

Well, that had hurt to say. The rest of this would be comparatively easy:

"Be as much help to her as you were to me. Be her friends, as you have been mine. If you will do that – I will consider that you have earned any and all services I could perform for you in all of my life.

"I beg of you."

Sei-san had started to smirk, then covered her eyes with one hand, and now lay back on the straw, her legs still crossed under the kotatsu. The smirk had never left her face. She waved the hand that wasn't over her eyes. "Spit in our palms and seal it with a handshake. A bargain, sir," she drawled.

Yoshino-chan, on the other hand, looked like she was about to cry. And Rei-san's smile had come back.

"We were going to anyway, Sachiko," Rei-san said gently. "But thanks for asking."


	5. Interchapter

Hello again, everybody. Here is an interchapter. I hadn't thought of it yet when I was writing chapter 4, and I decided it didn't belong in chapter 5, but still needed to be included, so I'm just kind of sticking it in between them.

More in the next chapter!

* * *

Interchapter – Lesson One

"Pay attention, Yumi."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Concentration is the first thing. This bowl of water. Here, on the kotatsu."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Concentrate on the water."

The bowl was some kind of shiny metal. The brim went outward in four points. The water almost glowed within, as the bowl was just catching a ray of the morning sun. "Is there anything magical about the water, Mistress?"

"Not as such. Ordinary fresh water, as I believe. Drawn from the Kamo River. The same water we wash in and drink, every day."

"I see, Mistress."

"A very simple thing, water. And a very necessary thing. Heian Kyo could not have been built here if not for Kamo-sama. All life hereabouts is connected, and _interconnected_, through that river."

"Is that magic, Mistress?"

"That is the _beginning_ of magic, Yumi."

"Oh!" Yumi could almost see it, now.

"The elements, yes. The keys to power. But there are different schools of thought as to their attributes and uses. Just for an example, the prevailing wisdom of the other side of the world – you probably haven't heard of this – has it that water and soil are cold, heavy, feminine, and wind and fire are hot, light, masculine elements. Curiously, Yin-Yang philosophy says something not too different."

"Really?"

"Really."

Yumi was mystified. Sachiko-sama was using a light, careful tone of voice which might mean amusement... or irritation. "Is it true, Mistress?"

"It may be." Sachiko-sama smiled. "This is something of a mystery to me, Yumi. If it _is_ true, I don't know just what it means. Does it mean that all women are dark and cold and heavy in their attributes? Try looking at Satou-san when you say that. The idea is absurd. And even courtly ladies, who may _appear_ to be cold and dark and heavy – I always thought so, when I was younger – are often on fire within. Then is the application narrower? Does it mean that female sorceresses, and witches, and any women who dabble with the keys, are limited to the manipulation of earth and water, and must leave the use of wind and fire to those who best understand it, men?"

Sachiko-sama continued to look Yumi in the eye. As she did so, holding out her left palm, there was a flame dancing in that palm, then, in the other palm, a small mound of earth pushing up, and a vine pushing out of that, creeping dexterously out and climbing Sachiko-sama's arm. A gust of wind blew through the room, blowing some papers about on the floor nearby where Yoshino-san had left them. Then the water in the bowl fountained up, but didn't spatter or spill; it only flowed back down into the bowl. The four metal points of the bowl's brim curled upward.

And Sachiko-sama never once took her eyes off Yumi's.

Yumi let her breath out, long and slowly, looking at this woman she worshipped, and worshipped her more, in silence.

"I seem to be able to turn all these five keys with equal skill," Sachiko-sama went on. "At least so far. Lots of sorceresses can turn one. One is all you _need_ to be able to turn, to be admitted to the Guild." The fire was gone, and so was the soil, but the vine was still there, on Sachiko-sama's arm. She was braiding two branches of it together with one hand, with an idleness Yumi thought must be feigned. "Plenty can turn two. Far fewer can turn three or four, but still more than would fit in this room. And even the ones who can only turn one or two are not limited to water and earth.

"But it _is_ quite rare for one sorceress to be able to turn all keys. Only one other sorceress currently in the Guild can do it."

"Really? Who, Mistress?"

"Fujiwara-dono. That's one reason she takes a particular interest in my career, and why I was given my first lonesome duty before I was even a Dragon."

"What is 'lonesome duty,' Mistress?"

"When you must leave your companions, your Order, temporarily, go away and perform a task on your own. There was an argument about whether I was ready for it, early last winter. Or not so much an argument as a war. Suga-sama was against me, and Fujiwara-dono was for me. They were the opposing generals, and the rift, for nearly two weeks, ran right down the Orders. The whole Guild, it seemed, was divided on the question." Sachiko-sama was looking away, now, toward the open shutters on the east side of the room.

"You didn't like that, did you, Mistress?" Yumi's breath quickened a little at her own boldness.

And Sachiko-sama stared at her, eyes a trifle widened. "What do you mean by that, Yumi?"

"You were the center of attention. Everyone was fighting about you."

Sachiko-sama continued the stare for a long moment, then smiled a gentle blue smile straight into Yumi's eyes.

"It was distasteful to me," she allowed.

Yumi was floating, but pulled herself down so that she was halfway between Earth and Heaven. _I must not press too much,_ she thought. _My Mistress is brave and strong and good, but there are things she is shy about._

"But on to your lesson, Yumi."

This brought Yumi all the way back to Earth. "Yes, Mistress! What must I do?"

"The water in the bowl. You must see if you can set it boiling."

"Mistress?"

"Oftentimes it will rain, when we are a-journeying, and in a particularly persevering spring rain such as we sometimes get, it is difficult even for a band of skilled sorceresses to keep a fire lit, especially when it's been a long day and they have had enough, already. Better if you can boil the water without fire. You have seen a pot of boiling water?"

"Yes, Mistress." Yumi did not remember where she had seen this, but the picture came instantly into her mind: old, rounded, hammered-out metal, mostly dulled but still shining copper here and there; water tumbling over itself, steam rising.

"You have held a hand near it, and felt the heat, and the steam, until you moved too close, and the heat pierced too sharply, and you moved your hand away?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Fire and Water are powers, as are Earth and Wind. The power that binds them all is knowledge, the knowledge of the sorceress born. Hold these sensations in your mind. Try to _look_ them into the water. Not the bowl, or the table. Just the water."

Yumi tried.

"Difficult, Mistress," she said, after a time. Trying to _look_ heat into something seemed to make everything colder, and the cold seemed to settle into her fingertips, resting on the kotatsu.

"I don't expect you to be perfect right away," Sachiko said soothingly. She rose, and moved around the table, and sat by Yumi, and put a vined hand on her shoulder. "Just keep trying."

Yumi seemed to feel some heat, then. She worked with that. _For you, Sachiko-sama,_ she thought. And worked.

After another time, there was a "plurk" from the bowl.

"Mistress? –" Yumi breathed.

"You may be almost there, Yumi." Soft-voiced. "But stay calm. Don't break your concentration."

"No, Mistress!" Yumi renewed her efforts.

There was another "plurk?" from the bowl.

Sachiko-sama gave a little laugh that was almost – _almost_ – a giggle. "Rising intonation?"

The water in the bowl heaved itself up. It rested on the lip of the bowl on two translucent paws. It swiveled a translucent, crested head with small pointy ears, and looked at the sorceress and her pupil with three translucent watery eyes.

They stared back at it, unmoving, unspeaking.

Then Yumi gave a little gasp. She had failed her Mistress.

The little water-creature climbed out of its bowl. It shuffled across the kotatsu, put its paws on Yumi's wrist, and looked up at her with a pleading inquiry. "Plurk?" it asked her.

Satou-sama burst into laughter.

They'd almost forgotten her presence. She'd been sitting by the shutters, reading by the morning light a most curious book she'd found in Chang'an.

"Satou-san!" Sachiko-sama was furious, though her fury did not seem to be directed at anything particular.

"Mistress, I beg your forgiveness," Yumi said, her voice breaking.

The water-creature looked away, as if wounded to the heart.

"I don't know what you're angry about, Sachiko," Satou-sama said, rising and limping over to them. She looked at the water-creature in an enquiring, friendly way, to which it responded by putting its paws together and bowing to her slightly. "That's a very difficult thing she just did. I'm not sure _I _could do that."

"Nonsense, Sei-san," Sachiko-sama snapped, glowering at the creature. It quivered, and dashed back to its bowl and dived in.

"Sorry, Sachiko," Satou-sama said with a smirk. "I'm too frivolous, I know, and incapable of understanding how weighty with high seriousness our profession is. Oh, Yumi, don't _cry_."

Yumi felt bad already, and felt both worse and better when Sachiko-sama's arm went around her shoulders. The vine tickled the back of Yumi's neck. "It's very _strange_, what you just did, Yumi, but by no means bad for a first try. Sei-san is right about one thing: animating water certainly isn't beginner magic."

The little crested head just peeked over the lip of the bowl, as if wondering if it was safe to come out.

"You're not ashamed of me, Mistress?"

Sachiko-sama gave Yumi a long look, still holding her around the shoulders, and said at last, "I can't imagine ever being ashamed of you, Yumi."

Satou-sama held out a finger to the bowl. The water creature jumped out, onto her hand, and began to dance from finger to finger, refracting the morning light in constantly shifting patterns through its small body, now a rainbow, now the rainbow gone as if it had never been, now the rainbow returned, brighter than ever. "Well, I give you top marks anyway, Yumi. And a creature like this might be a great hit at court. The lords and ladies are all fond of pretty colors."


	6. A Shining Prince

Chapter Five. Chaos, Discord, and Confusion! The Lord and/or Lady of Misrule takes up the Nine-Fold Enclosure and gives it a good shake! Pansies! Rosemary! Violence! My wedding bouquet! Thanks once again to Rosa Chinensis for holding the reins, and occasionally giving the horse a solid kick in the butt.

There probably won't be another update until early November sometime. I'm in a play – this happens from time to time, I'm not sure how – and my commute time, which I normally use for writing, has to be used for memorizing lines.

Glossary: Seiryo Den – The Emperor's personal residence; the name translates as the Pure and Fresh Palace. This is what they called it. Kicho: often translated as "screen of state," though there isn't really a western equivalent. The ladies of the Heian court concealed themselves from the gaze of men behind these screens, as one of many layers of artifice between the sexes, if perhaps the most tangible one. Not sure how they got into the habit in the first place. That must have been a weird day. Yogawa: a shrine on Mount Hiei, to the northeast of the city. There were many shrines, in the hills and mountains around the city, and the Yokibito often made pilgrimages to one or the other of them. The Japanese idea of religion seems to be very tied in with mountains, which seems appropriate to me.

* * *

V. A Shining Prince

The most persistent hate is that which doth degenerate from love.  
– Walter Map, Courtiers' Trifles, 245

Sachiko had seen this dance before, though the dancers were different each year.

Four boys and four girls. They were sleek and supple, nimble and quick, all of them, and their shining peach and jade green robes flapped and the lacquer on their fans flashed in the sun. Sachiko had no wish to be rude to the dancers, who had worked hard for this day, and would probably never reach such heights again, but she took more pleasure in watching Yumi, who was sitting next to her on the dais reserved for the Dragon Order and their sorores. (One of the other sorceresses had objected that famulae didn't really belong on the dais, but Sachiko had used her demon eyes, and the loud mouth had closed, in some chagrin.) It was all fresh to Yumi, and she was enthralled by the dancers, and by the courtyard of the Dairi, this Inner Palace section of the Enclosure which contained the Seiryo Den, with its orange tree and cherry tree to either side of the steps leading up to the Throne Hall, spreading their branches over the Emperor, seated in state at the top of the steps, over the dancers, and over the heads of the spectators, the cherry tree in glorious bloom – it was still a little early for the orange tree. The excitement and joy in Yumi's expressive face was more beautiful than any dance Sachiko had ever seen. But when Yumi turned her head to smile delightedly at her mistress, Sachiko felt her heart might burst with pleasure. She took Yumi's hand surreptitiously, so that the clasp was mostly hidden by their robes. Together they watched as the Emperor's chosen dancers went around and about...

...and then were joined by a strangely beautiful young man, with a face sculpted of ivory. A nobleman, by his luxurious yet tasteful wardrobe – a dark red silk Chinese robe with a pattern of green wistaria leaves, a blue underrobe visible in slender strips below the collar – he proceeded to lead the dancers in the next three measures. Much absurdity is written about dance, about an art that so escapes language. A dancer such as this, who outdances other dancers without seeming to give it any thought, outdances language with yet greater ease. Let us say that this splendid young man was worthy in every way to lead the Emperor's chosen dancers, and leave it at that.

The music finished, with repeated flourishes of the lutes and zithers, and strikes upon the wood-blocks, and the dancers finished in gestures of supplication to the holiest seat in the land.

The Emperor – his pure white robes and black lacquered headdress framing the face of a boy just approaching manhood – raised one hand.

The dancers broke up, and a break in the ceremony was signified thereby. The Emperor turned to his First Chancellor, Fujiwara no Yukinaga, who raised a finger and began to pontificate, apparently picking up a disquisition where it had been left off.

The beautiful young nobleman, seeming to shine with his own light even under Heaven's sun, began walking toward Sachiko's party.

"He's coming _this way_!" Yoshino-chan said, with a stifled shriek. The shriek was echoed in many birdlike throats.

"Calm yourself, Yoshino," Rei-san said irritably.

Sachiko regarded the imminent paragon with more weariness than anything. He persisted in wanting to speak to her. Words were all he had ever wanted, from her. And now, even words alone were torment to her. Most of the young women in the vicinity seemed to be following Yoshino-chan's example of going into divine-male-induced panic. Sachiko grimaced. She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. _No, not here. Please._ She bit her lip. And –

– and, O Heaven, she heard Yumi gasp at her side. _Not her too,_ she thought. _Not Yumi._ She turned her head, bracing herself for the blow to the heart –

– and found Yumi looking at her, in some concern.

"Are you all right, Mistress?" Yumi asked. She put her other hand on Sachiko's, thus clasping it alone between her two. "You seemed so sad."

Sachiko was suddenly very happy. It must have showed in her face, because Yumi smiled; indeed, she looked about to laugh. Sachiko's other hand joined the tangle of feeling between the two of them.

"I was, for an instant," Sachiko answered. "But somehow I can't feel sad when I look at you. Yumi, do you _see_ him?"

"See who, Mistress?"

"'Whom.' The man coming toward us. The man who danced."

Yumi looked at him, and then back at Sachiko. "Yes, Mistress."

"Well? What do you think?"

"He's a very handsome man, Mistress," Yumi said doubtfully.

"But you don't feel..." _What am I saying? It's obvious she doesn't. Why am I pushing? Do I_ want _her to? We have here a girl apparently immune to the Shining One's charms. A rare bud, to be preserved against the prevailing weather at all costs._ "Never mind, Yumi," she finished.

"Good morning, my dear sir," came a carelessly beautiful male voice.

Squeal, moan, coo. All around her. _In Heaven's name..._

There was Prince Suguru, standing before the little dais occupied by half the Dragon Order and their sorores. Sachiko glared at him. She felt oppressed by his handsome, smiling, impeccably-raimented person – he was aware of this, which was doubtless why he was looking ostentatiously away – and she felt oppressed by the cooing and fluttering of much of the Dragon Order surrounding her. The only blessed holdouts there were Hasekura Rei-san – who alternated between being unwillingly moved by Suguru's beauty and greatly annoyed by the effect he invariably had upon Yoshino – and Satou Sei-san, who was quite unmoved by his preternatural loveliness, and otherwise seemed to find him more amusing than anything.

Until her conversation with Yumi just now, Sachiko had always thought that Sei-san was unique. She didn't have to worry about Yumi in connection with Prince Suguru, it seemed, and now only had to be worried that Yumi and Sei-san had something in common.

As little as the necessity pleased her, she had to be courteous to Suguru-san. They were very public here. "Good morning, your highness," she said. "How pleasant to see you."

"An utter canard," he said lightly, "but, surrounded as we are by elegant fictions, it is difficult to avoid uttering fictions ourselves. I _am_ pleased to see _you_, however; there is nothing fictional there." He was looking at her now, smiling down at her, all lordly charm and familial affection. "I propose to treat the Dragon Order, or as much of it as is here present, to ices. Does this meet with your approval, Master Sachiko, and the approval of the Order?" These last words were largely drowned out by a most energetic resurgence of cooing and fluttering, an orgiastic "yes! yes!"

_May as well admit defeat,_ Sachiko thought, but she did her best not to sound defeated: "I don't believe our Grand Mugwump would disapprove," she said. "By all means, let us go." She rose, and so did the rest of the Order, in great excitement.

* * *

They had to walk to Prince Suguru's tent, which was some distance away – out through the Dairi gates and west to the Banqueting Pine Grove. He had come in full state, as always. But he always stopped short of upstaging the Emperor. And the Emperor returned the favor by granting him considerable indulgence – few other noblemen ever had permission to set up a personal establishment in the Pine Grove. Well, the Emperor was an impressionable young fellow, and probably a bit in awe of the elegant Suguru-san. Sachiko knew the Emperor slightly; they were related, though not closely. A nice boy, Sachiko allowed. And awfully pretty. Really, the Emperor was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Suguru-san himself... There he was, spearheading the march to his tent, mostly towering over a sea of flushed, upturned faces, chatting easily with them... Sachiko strode along, trying not to look anyone in the eye, trying not to sulk visibly.

She felt – and it cheered her no end to feel them – a pair of affectionate, confiding Yumi hands clasped around her upper arm, and she heard Yumi's soft voice in her ear, just loud enough to be heard over the rapture of the Order: "Why does that man call you 'sir,' Mistress?"

"One of the 'elegant fictions' he spoke of," Sachiko sighed. "From the beginning, the leaders of our Guild have refused to allow any of us to reside behind the screens of state courtly women use. At first this refusal was the cause of much contention. Ultimately, the court decided to just address us as men. To pretend we _were_ men."

Yumi had a look on her face Sachiko had never seen there before. "But that's..." Yumi said, and stopped.

From Sachiko's other side, Sei-san said, "I think 'crazy' is the word you're searching for, young Yumi."

Yumi looked carefully at Sachiko's feet.

Sachiko sighed again. On the one hand, she didn't want Yumi to absorb Sei-san's disrespectful attitude toward the court, and the Good People generally. On the other hand, she happened to agree with Sei-san on this point. This would require careful navigation. "Yumi, the court has centuries of tradition behind it. These traditions _are_ the court, in a way; the traditions, the court, the Emperor – it all adds up to our national religion. Now, the way to keep ancient traditions going is to ignore, as far as possible, any new developments that don't harmonize well with them. So women who act like men have to _be_ men. For the sake of tradition."

"Ah hah!" Sei-san cried. "Well done, Sachiko. Yes, it all makes sense now."

"But you don't act like a man, Mistress." Yumi was looking Sachiko in the eye again, in some perplexity.

"No, I don't. I am a sorceress, a woman. I practice a woman's magic. But as a group, we do a lot of things men traditionally do, and not women."

"Really?"

"Truly! Obvious example: you've seen Sei-san and Rei-san handle swords. They're quite good at it, and it's not traditionally a woman's art. Not all sorceresses are swordhands – I'm not – but enough are for it to be significant. Also, and this is something you'll see for yourself soon, the gathering of edible plants is traditionally men's work. But we sorceresses do a lot of traveling in the terrible wilds – much more than any of the men of the Capital – and we don't take men along for plant-gathering purposes of course, or any other purposes, so we've just got into the habit of doing it ourselves.

"Also, we ride to the wars."

"W-we do?" Yumi clung tighter to Sachiko's arm. Sachiko felt a slight tremor in that arm.

"We do," Sachiko continued. "I've already been to Koryo once myself. I'd much rather not, personally, but we're men – officially – and we have useful powers, which is more to the point, so we're more or less obligated to. If we were to refuse to go, the Emperor might decide we were an unrewarding use of Imperial monies, more trouble than we were worth, and withdraw his sanction of our Guild. That wouldn't be the end of us, of course, but it _would_ be troublesome... Oh, there are other things. It's too much to explain just now, Yumi, but you will always hear courtiers address us as 'sir' or 'master' or, for preference, they will avoid giving us any gender at all. And it's best for us to play along."

"If you say so, Mistress."

Yumi had a head-bowed, submissive-famula posture on. Sachiko couldn't be sure what Yumi was thinking when she did that. "We can talk about it more later, Yumi. It's all right if it sounds... a bit strange... to you –"

"Barking mad," Sei-san murmured.

Sachiko glowered at Sei-san, then turned back to Yumi with a gentler look. "Just don't say so to anyone else. All right?"

"Probably good advice," said Prince Suguru.

Sachiko managed not to jump. He had surprised her, and she suspected he knew it, but if she showed surprise he'd gain points –

"Who _is_ this charming young gentleman?" Suguru-san wondered, gazing benignly down upon Yumi. Yumi looked back up at him with deep skepticism.

"He is Nanashi Yumi-kun, your Imperial Highness," Sei-san said, sketching a bow. "Sachiko's brand new soror – excuse me, 'frater'! – mystica, or mystico, or something. I'll give you fair warning; he's a _bit_ more girly than the sort of charming young gentleman you normally consort with, your splendiferousness."

"_You_ still have not learnt to behave yourself, I see." Suguru-san spoke to Sei-san without looking at her. He kept his gentle, arresting gaze on Yumi, who merely looked back at him and continued to hold onto Sachiko.

Sei-san chose to respond to Suguru-san's snub by walking close to him – impolitely close, so that her robes, indeed her legs, were brushing his. "I choose to work toward the goals I set for myself," she said chattily, "rather than the goals other people set for me. For example, if I were to suggest that you spend too much money on silk scarves, you would hardly adjust your annual budget according to my suggestion, would you?"

Suguru-san seemed set on ignoring Sei-san's determined co-ambulation with him. "Your aspect is most pleasing. Of what family are you?" he asked Yumi, as if Sei-san had not spoken.

"Sachiko-sama's," was all Yumi said. She looked him in the eye when she said it, though.

"Or, to take another example, if the head of our Order were to suggest that you ought to donate your palace to us for combat exercises, and feed us at the end of the day, you'd be inclined to tell her to lump it, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed?" One of Suguru-san's exquisitely crafted eyebrows went up. "Sacchan has a cousin called Touko-chan. I know Sacchan's family quite well, being a member of it, and I don't recall hearing of you before now."

Sachiko had told Yumi to say she was an Ogasawara cousin, if anyone asked. The easiest, most sensible excuse – provided it wasn't used on someone who knew Sachiko's family tree from back to front. It was time to step in. "And yet, she _is_ my family, in a way," Sachiko said. "She is my famula, and will soon be my soror mystica. And I will thank you to stop quizzing her in that disrespectful fashion."

"Sacchan! Sacchan! No disrespect was intended, I assure – urgh!" Suguru-san stumbled, righted himself, and turned quickly. "You damned knave, will you quit walking so close to me?"

_He used rough language, and he_ nearly _raised his voice,_ Sachiko thought. _Well done, Sei-san._

"Oh, sorry about that, O shiny one," Sei-san said, looking more gleeful than sorry. "I think your perfume made me a bit dizzy. Everyone! Be careful not to walk too close to his Highness! If you put a foot wrong he might chip a toenail, and what a sodding nightmare that would be!"

A couple of sorceresses walking nearby gasped. One said "Sei-sama! How rude!"

"Sei-san –" Sachiko began, knowing it was no use.

"Your concern for my accoutrements is entirely charming," Suguru-san said to Sei-san, smiling wickedly, "especially given that you seem to have no concern for your own. You dress like a highwayman. And you wish to be taken for a woman?"

"I wish not to be taken at all," Sei-san rejoined with an easy grin of her own, "which is why I do things to my own specifications rather than yours. And really, if a man of your stamp suggests that I am unwomanly, what cause have I to repine?"

"A man of my 'stamp'?" Suguru-san's tone in response was only mildly antagonistic, giving the impression that he was refuting a philosophical argument rather than fending off a personal attack. "What do you endeavor to suggest by such a remark? I suppose I have the same qualifications for pronouncing on such matters as any man. Convince me otherwise!"

"Oh! Well. You think your qualifications _that_ good? Daresay you're right." Sei-san smirked, made an odd stroking motion in midair with her curled right hand, and then buffed her nails on the front of her tunic. "Pronounce away, if it gives you pleasure. Pronounce yourself raw. Meanwhile, I'll do what pleases me."

They had arrived at the pavilion. Suguru-san said, "What a fascinating conversation, my man. We must continue it another day." And he clapped his hands together twice, briskly: "Ices!"

Three beautiful young men wearing servants' tunics with striking red sashes leapt to their feet – they had been sitting on the grass and apparently playing an impromptu game of Go with pebbles and twigs – opened baskets and proceeded to serve out ices.

Yoshino-chan came to Yumi, talking excitedly about liana syrup. Yumi gave Sachiko a questioning look, and Sachiko gave Yumi a smile and a gentle shove in Yoshino-chan's direction. Deep down, she _didn't_ much like surrendering Yumi to someone else, but – she'd watched Yumi talking to Yoshino-chan. Yoshino-chan's company made Yumi happy in a way Sachiko hadn't seen her, otherwise.

The ultimate sacrifice, for Yumi's sake. Now she was stuck with Suguru-san, and a beaming Sei-san just over the horizon. Sachiko allowed herself to indulge for a moment in the sweet sorrow of renunciation.

"Sacchan," Suguru-san said, in as close as he got to a complaining tone, "whenever I see you these days, it seems to require me to also consort with that bounder."

"Bounder," came an amused murmur from nearby.

"A female bounder is a novel experience without question, but it cannot be called an amiable one. Is it really necessary for you to have the creature always about you?"

"Creature," came the murmur again.

"She is my friend," Sachiko said.

Those heartbreakingly lovely eyebrows of his were arched high. "And you approve of all she does?"

"No. But I don't have to. As long as we're relatively private here, I may as well ask you why you speak to me anyway?"

"Do I have to have a reason? We are bound together, you and I. You know how many ties as well as I or better. What reason do I need, beyond these?"

"You get nothing out of it, except your ghastly entertainment," said Sachiko. "And I get nothing at all except pain and confusion. I would be immensely gratified if you would stop."

"You don't answer your parents' letters," Suguru-san said.

A sudden change of subject. As it was one of Sachiko's own little vices – she and Suguru-san had much more in common than she liked to think about – she couldn't really complain. "Nonsense. I answer every letter. They wrote me last week, and I sent a reply the next day."

"You send back cheap paper with expensive writing on it, but you don't answer the one question they're really asking you: when are you coming home?"

"You have been talking with my father, I think." Sachiko was speaking very calmly, in spite of the rage building within her. "He talks about how expensive my writing is. He admittedly paid a fairly large sum three years back to establish me at the Guild. He has sent no other money since, but he talks as if I am always taking money from him."

"And you haven't answered _me,_ either," Suguru-san said, giving her an admonishing look. "We are your family, your father and I. Sooner or later, you have to give us an accounting of yourself."

"Yes. The Ogasawara family ideal. I have always studied to accommodate it. I will give you my answer now, my lord prince. You may pass it along to my father, and I pray it will content you both. I do not propose to come home any time soon. What I _do_ propose to do, very soon now, is refund my father the Guild monies he put up for me."

"Sacchan!..."

Suguru-san looked appalled. And it wasn't often that Sachiko caught that sort of uncertainty on his face. She felt triumphant. "Yes. And then he can stop complaining about how expensive my writing is."

"Sacchan... This is going too far, really." He was controlling himself now, looking carefully anywhere but at her. "For you to think that you could buy off your father, as if he were a crude extortionist –"

"He is _my_ father. I find the idea less surprising than you seem to."

"Sacchan..."

"He really spent very little on me before I came to the Guild – not nearly as much as he spends on entertaining guests, and his women – but of course it is impertinent in a daughter to think that she ought to be as important to a father as a guest in his home, or a whore in his bed. We can negotiate, and if I think his demands fair, I will work to raise another sum, though 'twill be a lesser one than the first. And I will raise it, for as young as I am, my skills are in demand, in some quarters. And I will pay, and he and I will be done."

"Sacchan, this is _childish_."

"Childish?" came the mocking voice from behind him, and he spun to confront the speaker. "She's offering to pay her debts. Sounds pretty grown-up to me."

"How dare you interfere in a private conversation between your betters!" Suguru-san was shaking with rage.

"I am a sorceress," Sei-san said, unfazed. "I have no _betters_. A prince should know what power means." She pointed a finger, but kept her voice level. "And it's not for you to say who's allowed to talk, and who isn't. Not your job."

"You seem very sure of all this." Suguru-san had gone all calm again. "Greater authorities than either you or I have set different precedents, of course. Is there any way I can convince you to at least find out what they had to say, as opposed to spending all your time in your own dream world?"

"If you can beat me two falls out of three, I'll consider it," Sei-san said. She was still smiling but her eyes were deadly serious.

Suguru-san looked back at her, motionless for a moment, then said, "You are a savage," and turned back to his cousin. "Sachiko, family ties bind too tightly, and blood runs too deep. Your connection with your family cannot be erased with money. That _is_ childish, a fantasy, and I am shocked that you could think it possible. Please tell me that you are overtired, or that your inexplicable antipathy for me has caused you to lose your temper, to say too much –"

Sachiko was unutterably weary, suddenly; weary of everything, especially of Sei-san and Suguru-san, and herself. The one person she wasn't weary of was off with Yoshino-chan having ices, and Sachiko wished she were with them. She wasn't overtired – she had actually slept quite well last night, with her nice clean little fox snuggled against her – but she _had_ lost her temper, and she _had_ said too much. She had blabbed her plans to her mortal enemy, in the hope of making him lose his sangfroid, his hideous conviction of his own rightness, and that _was_ childish stupidity. The stupidest. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it's true. I lost my temper and I said too much. I have no intention of attempting to buy myself from my father, to purchase my freedom from his tyranny. It's all lies and fustian, an expression of my inexplicable – inex –" She couldn't go on. Her throat had closed, it seemed. To speak of her hatred was to speak of her love, and to speak of her love was to put her death in his hands.

She had natheless said enough to make him angry. His eyes were flashing, and those ravishing slim white hands were turning clawlike. "Why do you insist upon –"

And then, a miracle shone through the mists.

"Master Sachiko, I greet you in the name of the Emperor," said a new voice. There was a man bowing at her, a middle-aged man in purple robes. Sachiko vaguely recognized him as the current Chief Constable of the City of the Right. As far as she knew, the position was hereditary. "His Majesty requests your presence at the main pavilion," the man drawled in easy, uninquisitive tones. "He wishes to consult with you and your colleagues on a matter of some importance."

"Thank you for your diligence," Sachiko told the man absently, though her heart was singing. Leaving Suguru-san to stew while she went to advise the Emperor would be pure pleasure. She debated for a moment about bringing Yumi, but...there she was, with Yoshino-chan and some other Ox- and Rat-level sorceresses. She was one of the group. They were eating ices, talking and laughing, having the time of their lives... No. She turned to Sei-san, who was looking right at her. "Sei-san, if Yumi wonders where I am, will you tell her I'll return soon?"

"Gladly," Sei-san said. "I'll keep an eye on her, Sachiko."

"Thank you," Sachiko said, as thankfully as she could manage, and she went.

* * *

Suguru had stalked off immediately Sachiko had departed, without a word to Sei. _I will bear the desolation somehow,_ Sei thought, and looked about her. The younger ones were having a lovely time over there. Yumi seemed to be really popular. Well, she was pretty, and she had a sweet disposition, but Sei suspected that her proximity to Sachiko made up a large part of her magnetism. Sachiko fascinated everybody – even Sei, and Sei was usually bored by the nobility. But then, Sei lived with Sachiko. Youko had entrusted Sachiko to her three years ago, saying "Look after her," and Sei had done her best. She had watched as Sachiko slowly moved away from home, in her head, and in her heart; as Miss Hoity-Toity had gradually dropped the Hoity and the Toity, and learned more about people. She still had blind spots, many of them. But most importantly, she had ceased to be certain of her own rightness, and the rightness of her upbringing. Paradoxically, in flight from her upbringing, in rebellion against it, she had still clung to it; it was all she had known.

Sei knew about that. Sei knew how difficult it could be to move away from home for good, though she and Sachiko had had to move in different directions to wind up in the same place. And Sei, of course, had traveled a much greater distance geographically, if not spiritually...

She thought about going over there to join Yumi and Yoshino, and decided that it wouldn't do. Yoshino and the others wouldn't mind her being there – though juniors were always self-conscious around seniors, especially a senior with such a reputation as Sei had. (And of course every single girl over there had a mistress already, or she wouldn't be here today – oh yes, and Sei had a soror mystica, for certain.) But Yumi was still uneasy around Sei, and suspicious of her. And the little darling was having such a good time it would be a sin to destroy it. Look at her: no longer clinging to Yoshino as the only familiar face in a sea of strangers, she and two girls Sei didn't know were playing at throwing ice in the air and catching it in their mouths.

Yoshino, for her part, was chatting with two of the sleek young men who'd served the ices; there was a lot of grinning and foot-shuffling going on. Rei was nowhere in sight. That was an old story. It was painful for Rei to watch Yoshino mingling with the opposite sex, but she was unwilling to interfere with Yoshino's pleasures, so she would take herself off somewhere. A poor policy – oh, there wasn't much danger _here_, but Rei obviously hadn't ever been lectured by noisy red-faced loving parents about the dreadful things that could happen to young women who mingled with men unaccompanied –

"Mistress?"

Sei turned, but knew from the voice, and of course the form of address, who would be there. Her gaze fell upon a face she still, after three months of knowing it, regarded as the most beautiful she had ever seen, save one.

"Oi, Shimako," she said cheerfully.

* * *

Sachiko entered the front room of the Jijuden, the Emperor's personal lodge just north of the Throne Hall, and came into the Presence warily. She saw that Youko-sama and Fujiwara-dono were already there – oh, and there was Suga-sama coming in, in all her splendour; apparently she'd been summoned as well. She was doing her very best not to acknowledge Sachiko's presence, or at least no more than was necessary in pushing past her to greet the Emperor first.

Sachiko was more amused than offended by this now, though such had not always been the case. Suga-sama's antics were legendary in the Guild. She had come of a servant family, but had managed to work her way up not only in the Sorceress's Guild, but in courtly circles as well – not an ordinary achievement, give her credit. She had many highly-placed contacts in Government, and was very useful to the Guild that way, from all Sachiko heard. She had seemed to resent Sachiko, for some reason, from the day Sachiko had first arrived in the Guild, and she had always been Sachiko's least pleasant teacher. But Sachiko had long since learned that as long as she was properly respectful to Suga-sama, and kept her own nose clean, there was no way Suga-sama could really damage her.

She waited for Suga-sama to finish her greetings, which were elaborate and ceremonious to a degree consonant with Suga-sama's notion of her own importance.

When this was over at last, Sachiko advanced the requisite distance, knelt, and bowed low.

"Rise," the Emperor husked, in a voice that was still working its way toward manhood.

"Hullo, Ogasawara-kun," said Fujiwara-dono. "I'm a bit surprised you're here without your pet."

"She's having a good time, Fujiwara-dono," Sachiko said evenly. "I didn't want to drag her away." She felt some resentment at hearing Yumi referred to as her "pet," but she couldn't resent it publicly, in front of the Emperor. Anyway, if she showed yet more insolence to Fujiwara-dono, after yesterday, Youko-sama would probably send her to bed without any supper.

"Your pet?" the Emperor asked, in a tone of friendly inquiry.

Sachiko had always found that, when a subject came up which one did not wish to discuss in present company, a fully responsive yet not very exciting answer was best. "My servant – my student, in truth," Sachiko said. "A charming young person, your majesty. The young students are currently disporting themselves at Prince Suguru's pavilion." She sent Youko-sama an inquiring look. Youko-sama shrugged philosophically.

"Oh! You have an imouto, Sacchan?"

Sachiko _knew_ that voice. She sent an astonished glare in its direction. And there, stepping in through the wide entrance to the main chamber, was a very familiar young woman, only a year or two older than Sachiko herself. One she had not expected to see again any time soon.

"Eriko-sama!" she breathed.

"_Good_ to see you again, honey," said Torii Eriko-sama happily, walking up to Sachiko. "I understand you've done quite well for yourself. Distinguished yourself in southern Honshu over the winter, and promoted to Dragon Level. Well done! We expect great things of you, Sacchan. And I'm sure Youko's very proud of you!"

"Eriko-sama, I thought you had married."

"Do you know, I _had_?" Eriko-sama answered chirpily. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Sachiko's eyes narrowed, and her mind moved very swiftly. The wedding had been in the autumn of last year, to a well-to-do artisan, a maker of umbrellas – a very odd choice, given Eriko-sama's lineage: a warrior family with aspirations to gentility. Eriko-sama was somewhat over-fathered and over-brothered, and it was a charming miracle that her intended had survived the courtship. Eriko-sama had been blooming at the wedding, dressed in twenty robes, all in different bright colors, her hair unbound, freed. Then there had been nothing for months, and they had all assumed she was happily married. _Now she turns up at the Spring Dance without warning, her hair done up under a headband as of old, dressed in sorceress's robes once again, but now done entirely in black – dusty black leather for her outer cloak, shiny black silk for her inner robe, deep and opaque. Hm. Not her usual rig-out, from what I can remember. And she's smiling a bit over-pleasantly, and doesn't want to discuss her marriage._ Also, behind Eriko-sama, there was Youko-sama shaking her head at Sachiko vigorously, and Fujiwara-dono drawing lots of lines across her throat with her fingers and making sharp little whistling noises.

All this passed through Sachiko's mind in a winking.

"Of course, Eriko-sama," Sachiko said pleasantly. "I'm sure there are all sorts of other things to discuss."

"Indeed!" Eriko-sama said. "It's a big world, after all. No end of other things to talk about! Oh, and you've been summoned for a particular purpose, haven't you? I'm interrupting! I _am_ sorry, your Imperial Majesty," Eriko-sama said, turning to the Emperor.

"Not at all," he said quickly. "Er, just one question, Torii-san – why black?"

"Because it is the color of night, and the banner of the destructive forces that wage perpetual warfare against all hope and happiness, your Imperial Majesty," Eriko-sama said with a sweet, charming smile. "I thought it appropriate."

Fujiwara-dono was now trying to catch the Emperor's eye, her lips moving vehemently yet issuing no sound, and the lines across her throat had been abandoned in favor of great slashing gestures in midair. Youko-sama had buried her face in her hands.

"I see," the Emperor said, nodding. Then he shook his head, and then he nodded again. Then he stared at Fujiwara-dono, and then he cleared his throat. Sachiko felt some sympathy with him. Plainly it was proving to be a challenging day. "Er – well. Well, to business, Auntie."

Suga-sama sent the Emperor a cool look, with one speculative eyebrow raised, but of course said nothing.

"Yes, your Majesty," Fujiwara-dono said, resuming her ordinary decorum. "To business, Mizuno-san."

"Yes, Fujiwara-dono," Youko-sama said. "Sachiko, please come closer."

Sachiko walked toward the throne. She took slow, measured steps. She opened her pouch. She met Youko-sama's eye.

Youko-sama nodded, very slightly.

Sachiko reached into her pouch, and brought out the shining golden thing.

No-one spoke for a few moments.

"Put it away, Sachiko," Youko said at last, and Sachiko complied.

Although the object was no longer visible, some of the golden light it had shed still lingered on the Emperor's face. It shifted, this way and that, playing over his whole face – including his eyes, and yet he seemed unaware of it. He was aware, after a few moments, that everyone was staring at him.

"Have I got something on my nose?" he inquired nervously.

Fujiwara-dono waved a hand. The light left the Emperor's face; as it did so, he tried to make a minute examination of it, but succeeded only in crossing his eyes.

It danced sadly for them in midair, for a few moments, and was gone.

"It's never done that before," Sachiko said.

"Does it have some significance?" the Emperor wondered, still staring at the place where the light had vanished for good.

"Difficult to say," Fujiwara-dono said, in a musing tone, looking at the same place.

"No doubt it was a mark of favor," Suga-sama said. "Wishing the Emperor a long and prosperous reign."

Sachiko wondered about that, in the silence that followed. That tone of voice from Fujiwara-dono seldom boded well. Youko-sama had once described it as the tone she got when there were a number of thoughts running through her mind and she didn't like the look of any of them.

* * *

"So are you ready for the Questioning?" Sei asked her imouto.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," was her lugubrious answer.

"Hath courage run aground, dear heart?"

Shimako turned those sweetly ethereal eyes fully on her, and Sei sighed a little. "It's just – I've heard you and Sachiko-sama and Rei-sama talk about it, and from what you _say_, it doesn't sound too hard – the actual business of talking to the Divine One is left to the Guild leader there present and the Grand Mugwump of the Dragon Order. And the rest of us just have to sing, as odd as that sounds. But from the _tone_ of what you say, there's more to it than that..."

"There _is_ more to it than that, especially this year. Trouble is, we don't know just what that more will be. Bad, good, indifferent? The high council's out to lunch. So we don't talk about it a lot."

"What exactly is it you're not talking about a lot, Sei?"

"I can't tell you, I'm afraid. You happen to be close to the four dragons – Sachiko, Rei, Youko, myself – who know anything about it at all, so I guess you've had more opportunity to put two and two together than most. But we've all been sworn to secrecy by Fujiwara-dono. So we can't discuss it. Understood?"

"Yes."

"So what will you do?" Sei grinned.

Shimako put a hand on Sei's arm. "Trust you and wait."

Sei loved that about Shimako. If it had been anyone else asking, Sei would have used such verbal footwork and legerdemain, such sleights and sophistries as would make a missionary blush. Shimako was smart enough not to fall for any of that. But Shimako was also smart enough to know that if it was something she really needed to know, for her safety, then Sei would tell her and damn secrecy.

Sei just wished she could have the same certainty about the higher-ups... she was pretty sure Fujiwara-dono wouldn't lead them wrong, but was less sure of the seldom-visible Shonagon-sama, and with Suga-sama it was almost a joke – Suga-sama might avoid telling _herself_ the truth, if the truth happened to be inconvenient to her...

"How did you find me?" Sei asked, longing for a change of subject. "You just got here, didn't you?"

"Yes. I was sorry to miss the Dance. But I heard a voice, a portent ringing out clearly in the morning mists: 'Sei-san! How rude!' I was fairly sure I knew which Sei-san was so portented, and so I followed the sound."

"You know me so well!" Sei said happily, draping an affectionate arm around Shimako's shoulders. "Look, the Mountain Lily Gang has a new member, and I think you ought to meet her. She's completely new to the fancy, and I'm sure she'd benefit from your advice. She's right over there – " She indicated the scrum by the refreshment baskets.

"Really? Which one is she?" Shimako was looking eagerly.

"She...she's...gone," Sei said.

"Oh. Oh, dear. Well, perhaps another time –"

"_No_," Sei said, a little too loudly. "She _shouldn't_ be gone. And, damn her hide, _Yoshino's_ gone as well. _She_ shouldn't be gone."

"What, isn't Rei-sama with her?"

"No, Yoshino was talking to boys. You know what that does to Rei. The little alley-cat –" Sei trailed off.

"Suguru," she said a moment later.

The Shining One had vanished as well.

That was enough. That was about the limit. Sei ran briefly, and then was fighting her way through the frolicking juniors, a bit overenthusiastically. One of the ice baskets got in her way, and she kicked it vehemently – "Filthy luxury!" she roared – and thus all three ice baskets capsized and several liana bowls became airborne, spraying cold water and bits of ice and sticky, suddenly-no-longer-elegant syrup everywhere. There was much shrieking and wailing among the younger sorceresses, who of course had all got dressed up in their best for this festive occasion. There was a panicked stampede, and the tent was empty in moments except for Shimako, Sei, and one girl Sei had managed to pluck out of the mass exodus, recognizing her as one of the girls she'd seen playing at ice-toss with Yumi. "Oi! You! Girl!"

"Crazy!" the girl squealed. "You've gone crazy, Sei-sama!"

"Crazy like a FOX!" Sei said much too loudly, taking the girl gently by the collar and lifting her up on tip-toes. "Where is Yumi, damn your eyes?"

The girl burst into tears.

"Well, what the –" Sei spluttered. "Now as Christ is my witness, I –"

"Sei, she doesn't know from God or Christ; she's a Buddhist," Shimako said calmly. "Let me talk to her. Will you let her down, please?"

"Sure," Sei said, dropping the girl. Sei was a bit unnerved.

Shimako steadied the girl and sat her down on a bench. "There, there. My Mistress didn't mean anything by it... Well, I suppose she did mean something by it, but she didn't mean to frighten you..."

There was a brief interval, in which Shimako comforted the weeping girl, and Sei paced. _Calm, calm. It's not Shimako's fault, it's not this girl's fault. Prince Suguru has got the better of you. That's_ your _fault..._

True. But this was taking too much time. Sei looked at the weeping girl. Apart from the fact that her nose was running, she was somewhat fetching. And she had a scar on one cheek, so Sei felt some kinship with her. Another approach occurred to her. With a glance at Shimako, she sat down on the girl's other side. "I'm sorry," she said. "Will you listen, now? I'm sorry."

The girl looked at her reproachfully. Her face was a mess of tears. Sei put an arm around the girl's shoulders. "What's your name, little sister?"

Shimako arched an eyebrow. Sei paid her no heed.

"Sadako," the girl whispered.

Sei used the edge of one sleeve to dry Sadako's face. She was as gentle and tender as she knew how to be. She even sang a little as she dried, looking intently into Sadako's eyes. The girl couldn't have understood the words, they were in a faraway tongue, but they seemed still to soothe her:

In the oncoming morning I'll be bidding adieu  
To Leitrim, Drumshanbo and sweet Carrick too;  
But no matter what fortunes I may seek far away,  
My thoughts will be with you by night and by day.

No more will I ramble round Hartnett's green hills.  
And the place I love dearest is down by the mill;  
Its great fertile valley where oft times I ran  
And felt the fresh breezes round the shores of Lough Bran.

"A little better now, sweeting?" Sei asked gently.

The girl nodded. She looked almost sleepy.

"You were playing with a friend of mine, a short while ago. Yumi. I'm sorry I spoke so roughly to you, Sadako-chan, but I need to find her. I'm responsible for her, and I'm a little worried that she's just disappeared like this. Do you have any notion of where she might have gone?"

"She went with Prince Suguru," Sadako said. She looked a bit woozy.

"With Suguru?" Sei was on the point of exploding again, but controlled herself. "That's what I _thought_ she might have done, but I couldn't believe it. Why would she go with Suguru?" _What in the world would Suguru want with her?_

"I'm sorry, Sei-sama, but I didn't know," Sadako answered. She was looking fixedly up into Sei's eyes. "I didn't want her to go. I don't have many friends, and Yumi-san is very nice. The prince said he had something important to talk to her about, and that it concerned Sachiko-sama. She nodded, told me she'd be a few minutes, and went with him. They went that way," she added, pointing slightly west of south, but still not taking her eyes off Sei. "Toward the gardens."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Sei said. "You've done me a service. I must do you a service some time. Remind me!" Sei patted the girls' shoulders, and stood. "Now, where'd _Shimako_ get to? This just gets better and better. Never mind –" She began hurrying toward the gardens...

Sadako started to follow her, and stopped. Then she just stood and watched her go.

* * *

"The warrior families are a growing problem," Suga-sama was saying. "If we in the Sorceress's Guild are to hold any kind of balance, we must have all our awe and prestige intact. Our powers are key, and no one might take our powers from us, at all events. But also of importance is our connection with Amaterako-sama. And that is in large part embodied in the object Ogasawara-kun showed you a few minutes ago."

"You've been presenting it to her every year," the Emperor said. "Correct?"

"Correct," said Fujiwara-dono.

"And every year she gives it back at the end of the Questioning?"

"Such has always been the case." Suga-sama nodded.

"Why is it necessary for you to go through that rigamarole every spring?" said the Emperor in an almost offensively reasonable tone of voice. "I mean to say. If she wants it, let her keep it. If she doesn't want it, you can keep it."

"An interesting point of view, Toru-chan," Fujiwara-dono said, in a very similar tone. "Immensely practical. Tell me...that dance we all watched a little while ago, with great delight, I'm sure. Is it really necessary? I mean some person or persons in your court goes to tremendous trouble every year to scour the country for dancers. Heaven forbid you saw the same dancer two years in a row –"

"Yes, yes, Oba-san," the Emperor interrupted hurriedly. "You are quite right, of course, and I withdraw the question. So. She has always given it back at the end of the Questioning. But last year –"

"Last year was different," mused Fujiwara-dono. "She held it longer, at the last, looked at it longer, and as she handed it back to Amaya-kun, she spoke to it, saying "Next year you come home to me."

"What did she mean by that?"

"Probably exactly what she said. This will be the last year we can carry this object as an offering. It may be about to hatch. But just what the outcome or upshot will be, I don't know."

"And you bring this up –"

"We will need a new object for the offering, next year. If we are to preserve our necessary status, as Suga-sama just explained. I have my eye on one which ought to meet with Amaterako-sama's approval. But it will be expensive –"

"And that is the reason of the preposterous sum you have requested?"

Suga-sama spoke up. "I assure you, my Emperor, Fujiwara-dono has not exaggerated in the slightest. It will be a great expenditure, but quite necessary –"

Fujiwara-dono held a gentle finger up, her eyes narrowing. "It was thy nuncle told thee 'twas a preposterous sum, warn't it?"

"Well –" The Emperor blushed a bit.

"Yuki-chan is good at minding the purse-strings, all right. But tell him this from me: if he wants to continue to call upon our services in time of war..."

"Auntie, you would refuse your duty?" The Emperor was looking at her wide-eyed.

"Not happily, Toru-chan. But if we cannot bring her the offering each year, she may well turn her face away from us for good. If that happens, it will be difficult for us to –"

"Pardon – intrusion!" A young sorceress, out of breath, had rushed into the room from the darkening day. She was dripping wet and the front of her robes looked slimy, almost as if they had taken a direct hit from a big blob of liana syrup.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Emperor inquired with stern formality, his voice cracking on the first syllable of "meaning."

"I beg your forgiveness, your Imperial Majesty. Fujiwara-dono – chaos and discord at Prince Suguru's tent, in the Pine Grove – violence – ice-baskets overturned – newbies in tears – Satou Sei-sama has run mad –"

"What!" Youko stepped forward quickly.

"Calmly, calmly, my pet," Fujiwara-dono said, taking the girl's hand. "Watanabe-kun, is it not?"

"Y-yes, Fujiwara-dono –"

"And what do you say to the day, little one? A beautiful Dance, eh? Did you have fun at Prince Suguru's tent?"

"Yes – a lovely time, Fujiwara-dono – UNTIL –" Watanabe-kun screwed up her face, as if warding off tears.

"Why has Satou-san run mad, then? Any notion?"

"She said – she'd lost someone she was supposed to be looking after, and –"

There was a rustle and a flash of azure silk robes, and Sachiko was gone.

"Now – now what in the tarnation –" the Emperor was very curious to know.

* * *

Hasekura Rei had been having a lovely day until _he'd_ shown up.

Truthfully, Prince Suguru had never seemed much of a direct threat. He'd never pursued Yoshino, not even in a momentary fashion. Maybe she was too young for him, or not sufficiently a lady, or something. This never seemed to discourage Yoshino at all, however. Walking to the Prince's tent, she'd been in the cluster of rats and young oxen closest to him. Rei had been utterly forgotten, and left to wander the earth alone for the rest of her days, trailing along behind, eating her own heart... She _would_ keep telling herself not to be overdramatic, of course. Yoshino had done this sort of thing before – with Prince Suguru, and with other beautiful noblemen – though no other noblemen were quite on the same level as Suguru, curse him. Indeed, for a short while, Yoshino had had a crush on Emperor Rokutoru, had called him "the adorable Emperor-chan," and so on.

But she had always come back to Rei in the end, so she would this time too. Wouldn't she?...

Things had got worse in Prince Suguru's tent. His serving-boys were nearly as pretty as he was, and not nearly as standoffish. Rei actually heard them talking to Yoshino about fishing, of all things. About what expert fishermen they were. And Yoshino, who had often fished and caught dinner for the whole Gang when they were traveling, had listened to them attentively, ooh-ing and aah-ing all the while, the little fraud.

Rei had almost been able to see the boys' thoughts, serving boys unencumbered by the courtly need to see the sorceresses as strangely shaped men: _Here's a girl who doesn't hide herself behind a screen. An_ easy _girl..._

It was too much. Rei had gone for a walk.

The conversation, more than an argument, almost a war, which Rei had with herself on this walk, is best not recorded. She went around and around in her own head, cursing herself for a fool, and pleading with herself not to be so hard-hearted. Let Yoshino have her fun, she had pleaded with herself. As long as she comes back to me at the end of the day, I don't mind where she goes for lunch, do I?

_Don't you?_ herself had answered.

...Yes, she did. This was too much. Ignoring for once the stateliness imposed by the grandeur of the Enclosure, she had run back to Suguru's tent –

And Yoshino was gone. And so were the serving-boys. She thought to ask Suguru where his boys had gone, hoping to get the little dastards into trouble at least, but, oddly, Suguru had also disappeared. It wasn't like him to leave his guests to their own devices that way.

_How long was I gone?_ she'd thought to herself, her self-control slipping away as she looked frantically this way and that. _One turn around the courtyard at most. Impossible._

She'd dashed out into the sunlight once more, only to find a huge cloud going over the sun, a cloud piled high with white fluff, and with threatening dark bits on its underbelly. There were shadows everywhere, suddenly, and her Yoshino might have been stolen away into any one of them –

In and out between buildings and temples and concubines' palaces, "Yoshino? Yoshino!" And nothing, and nothing, and nothing. She kept approaching people to ask them questions and they kept running away. Why? What in the world was the matter with them all?

Even in the haze in which she was wandering, she managed to detain the next party passing by. A concubine, this woman was. Easy to see. All the courtly points of self-decoration, most prominently the long, long free-flying hair obscuring the features, the powdered face, the plucked eyebrows, the blackened, scarcely visible teeth. Truly splendid robes, much too rich for a servant.

"Don't run!" Rei shouted. "Don't you dare run! I have questions for you!"

The woman's attendants scattered, and she fell to her knees, trembling. "Spare me! I beg of you!"

Fortunately, Shimako-chan turned up at this point. "Rei-sama?" And there she was at Rei's side.

"Shimako-chan!" Rei said. "It's good to see you. I'm, er..."

"Looking for Yoshino-san."

"However did you know that?"

"Best not gone into now, I think, Rei-sama. Hadn't you better put away your sword? I think you're frightening this lady."

Rei looked down. She was, in fact, holding her sword, positioned for a horizontal, left-to-right slash. She had no recollection of having drawn it.

She sheathed it. This was rather embarrassing.

Shimako-chan knelt so as to be on the same level with the lady. "Please don't judge my friend too harshly," she said. "She has lost track of a girl who is her very dearest friend, indeed, her cousin. Can you help us to find her?"

The lady had stopped trembling. "Two braids? Beautiful, mysterious eyes? Was she with a couple of boys?"

"Yes, exactly."

"They went in there," she said, pointing at a nearby shed. "It's a storehouse, I think. I've never been in there."

"Thanks very much for your time, my lady," Shimako-chan said, in her most cultured tones, and turned to Rei. "Shall we?"

Rei struggled with herself as they crunched over white gravel. Shimako-chan had been so helpful. How to tell her?... "I should do this alone, Shimako-chan."

"If you want me to hide my eyes at an appropriate moment, I will, Rei-sama," Shimako-chan said. "But I think I should come with you."

Shimako-chan spoke Lady more fluently than anyone else in the Gang, with the obvious exception of Sachiko. As far as Rei could tell, what she'd just said translated as, "I have my own reasons for coming along, and any request that I go away will be carefully ignored."

Oh, well. At least it was Shimako-chan; Shimako-chan was discreet, and did not come unstuck in a crisis. Maybe it was for the best – _now, up on the porch, slide the door open, and –_

Two naked young men jumped away from each other, yelping and squealing, and dived behind an old kicho, or screen of state.

The room contained furniture and boxes, in some disorder. It might not have been cleaned in years.

Rei looked at Shimako-chan. Shimako-chan had turned away and was facing the courtyard, her face flaming.

_She's probably never seen anyone naked before. Well, I told her I should do this alone._

"You," Rei said, addressing the kicho. "Boys. Young men. Servants of the accursed Suguru. You know who you bloody are."

There were sniveling noises.

"Your sniveling lacks conviction," Rei said coldly. "I can come back there and coach you, if you keep it up. With my sword."

Silence fell.

"Now. Where is Yoshino?"

"Who's Yoshino?" said one puzzled voice.

Rei drew her sword. There's a way you can do it so it's quiet, and a way you can do it so it makes an impressive noise, and in view of the circumstances, Rei chose the noisy one. "Here I come, then!" she added.

The kicho trembled.

"The girl you left Prince Suguru's tent with," Shimako-chan said unexpectedly. "She wore her hair in braids."

"Oh, her!" said one voice. "She was here for a little while."

"She left just a few minutes ago," added the other. "Pity. She was terrific company."

"I think we bored her."

"Oh, don't be silly. She seemed pleased enough."

"Well, she was an awful lot of work. I was just as glad to see the back of her, myself."

"Oh, you're just as glad to see the back of _anybody_ –"

Rei, with tears in her eyes and her sword raised, was about to charge forward. But she was stopped by Shimako's hand on her arm. "You lads shouldn't say anything else," she said, raising her voice only slightly.

There was a pause.

"If –" the first voice began, tentatively.

"Believe me," Shimako said firmly. "You should hold your tongues, and not discuss the matter. At all. With anyone. That is your safest move."

The room was quiet.

"Come along, Rei-sama." Shimako tugged at Rei's sleeve.

"They..." Rei croaked, and stopped.

"They nothing. That's all. Let's just leave. It's the most dignified course."

The door slid shut behind them.

The silence continued in the little storehouse, for a few moments. Then the first of the two voices said, "I forgot to mention that the girl is the most awful tease."

"Maybe it's just as well," said the second voice. "They seemed angry enough as it was."

"Shall we pick up where we left off?"

"...Yes, but not here. People apparently feel quite free to just dash in here without so much as knocking."

"Too true. We live in a fallen age, Keita. Standards are not what they used to be. Where are my socks?"

* * *

Yumi was trying to be brave. Perhaps it wasn't _very_ dangerous, being here with Sachiko-sama's cousin, but she still didn't like or trust him, and none of her new friends were about, so it was _something_. And maybe it was the best she could do right now.

Curious, though. He called this a garden, but it was very different from Mizuno-sama's garden. Where hers had been awash with flowers and flowering trees, surprised into blossoming wakefulness by the first spring weather, this was mostly rocks, carefully arranged. Rocks, and some sparse long grasses, with an arranged air rather than a naturally grown one. And a fountain, ornamental, though of stark lines. Was this a more typical garden? Was this what Sachiko-sama had meant when she'd said there was no other garden like Mizuno-sama's in this country?

"What is this place?" Yumi asked, looking the tall prince directly in the eye for the first time.

"Beyond that stand of cedars, and past the wall of the Enclosure, is the old Ogasawara palace. See the high gables there, over the treetops?" He was smiling, and had a hand on her shoulder. She wondered what was really behind this carefully fashioned facade of calmness, gentlemanliness, unflappable nobility. Satou-sama had twitched the curtain, enough to reveal a very different kind of person.

_Sachiko-sama wears a similar curtain over her true self._ Yes. But Sachiko-sama did let some people inside, people she was close to. She had honored Yumi this way, and Yumi could wish herself to have the same kind of curtain, so that she could invite Sachiko-sama inside, return the favor. _But everything about me is on the surface,_ Yumi thought bitterly. _I'm transparent, just an ordinary beggar girl, a girl with no home, no past, no secrets. What does Sachiko-sama see in me? Why would she choose me?..._

"Er... the _Ogasawara_ palace?" Yumi asked, catching up at last.

"Yes," said Prince Suguru, chuckling gently. "Your Mistress's family home. We spent a lot of time in this garden when we were children, she and I."

The carefully arranged rocks and brush around her took on a new meaning. This was it, then. This was where Sachiko-sama had learned all that careful control, all that poise, in this severe aridity, like a poem all of one-syllable words. She seemed to see a little girl with long black hair and blue eyes sitting by the ornamental fountain, smarting from the latest lesson in good manners, maybe dreaming of dragon-fire in the sky over Koryo...

"Her family –"

"Her mother no longer attends festivals," said Prince Suguru a little sadly. "Oba-san goes visiting shrines instead; she's on a pilgrimage to Yogawa even now. She's about halfway to being a nun. A bit disappointed in life, is our oba-san." The Prince sighed a little. He sounded really sorry for her. Then he cleared his throat and said, in a stronger voice, "And Sacchan's Daddy is in China. Just took ship three days ago. He's in partnership with my own father, and with Fujiwara no Ryuusuke; the three of them handle much of our overseas business."

"So no one is living in the palace."

"Correct. I thought you'd like a glimpse of your family home." He laughed lightly.

Yumi looked at him unhappily. She could resent his behavior, but had not the power of correcting it.

"Also, of course, it's a good place for a private talk." He lifted his hand from her shoulder and retreated toward the cedars, backing up, still looking her in the eye. "There's someone here who wants to speak to you."

Yumi opened her mouth, to ask "Who?" and another hand landed on her shoulder, to replace Prince Suguru's, before she could get the word out.

She turned her head to see a face she'd hoped never to see again.

"Hello, my luck," said Tsujimoto no Fujito. "You can't know how I've missed you."

She jumped away from him. She took a quick look in Prince Suguru's direction, but he had vanished.

She looked back at Tsuji-sama and –

Grey mist.

* * *

_Tsujimoto no Fujito had no magic of his own, so he'd had to buy some._

_He'd lodged certain cherished movables with Old Keiko in the first place, so it was a simple matter, provided she had the necessary: just go to her and see if there was anything of his that appealed to her, and which she might be willing to accept in trade. And he had many lovely things he was sure would appeal to her, though, as she was blind, he had to describe them to her. His old perfume case, with mother-of-pearl inlay. An old koto which had belonged to his late mother. A –_

_"The golden box," she'd said._

_He'd been afraid she'd say that. She'd probably had someone look the items over and tell her what was there – unless she could just tell gold by the heft and the feel of it. "I don't know if I want –"_

_"A SPELL?" Old Keiko shrieked, baring her gums in what Tsujimoto hoped was a smile._

_"I do, it's only that I don't know if I want the spell that badly –"_

_"You WANT A SPELL –"_

_"Yeeees," Tsujimoto said. He resented being shrieked at, and he was hanging onto his patience by his teeth here as it was._

_"– TO SET ALL TO RIGHTS!"_

_"Well..."_

_"A SPELL TO PUT YOU BACK WHERE YOU BELONG. THE WORLD THAT'S HOME TO YOU."_

_"Well... Yes."_

_"And you don't know if you want that as badly as you want a gold box?"_

_Tsujimoto tried silence._

_"This gold box in partic'lar. Which smells like you kept incense in it."_

_"Yes. That's true –"_

_"What you really don't know," the witch went on with disconcerting helpfulness, "is if you really want to give the gold box to Old Keiko. Old Keiko is an ugly, stupid, eyeless, toothless old woman, and gold boxes would be wasted on her. Isn't that right?"_

_Tsujimoto growled deep in his throat, but said nothing._

_"ISN'T THAT RIGHT?"_

_"What I really don't know," Tsujimoto burst out, "which should be obvious to any child, is whether a spell you sell me for a gold box is going to work or not. And if it doesn't work, am I going to be able to take you to task for it, and demand my gold box back, or am I going to be roasted on a stick by that blasted Ogasawara sorceress?"_

_Old Keiko laughed in rather a high-pitched, demented way. She took a bit of old leather out of the front of her robe, put it in her mouth, and began gumming it. Tsujimoto turned his gaze to the ceiling, and kept it fixed there, as she spoke, barely audibly, through the leather. "You want proof, then. You think Old Keiko's a liar and you want.. oh, what's the word?"_

_" A 'demonstration'?" Tsujimoto said, with heavy patience, still eyeing the rafters._

_"Look at me a moment."_

_As if it pained him to do so, which it rather did, Tsujimoto brought his gaze down from the ceiling and rested it on Old Keiko's venerable, revolting face._

_There was a sort of grey mist, and when Tsujimoto no Fujito came to himself again, he was outdoors, with the sun hurting his eyes, stark naked, and lying in a trough of horse-water. There were several persons of the low birth and intelligence and dress sense predictable for this part of town laughing at him on the porch of the house across the street._

_He got out of the trough, with as much dignity as he could muster, and, streaming water, walked back into Old Keiko's house._

_She was still sitting where he'd left her, by her chest. "Pretty good, eh?" she said, dangling a crystal on a narrow strip of leather._

_"And that will work for me as well?" Tsujimoto said, keeping his voice even with considerable effort._

_"That it will. You can test it on my boy, if you like. Here, boy!"_

Well... suffice to say, the test had been satisfactory. And seeing how quickly the beggar-girl succumbed to the crystal, he knew for certain that he had not been cheated.

"It's time to end this foolishness," he said. "I am Tsujimoto no Fujito."

"You are Tsujimoto no Fujito," the girl answered him. Her eyes had gone from brown to a curious black.

I am your Master," he went on. "My commands you must obey, or it will be the end of you. In all things you will obey me!"

"I will obey you," the beggar-girl acknowledged in a whisper.

"I set you a task, and the task must be completed. You have seen where she keeps the golden object?"

The beggar-girl nodded. Her eyes were lidded.

"Good," he said. "Tonight, while your mistress sleeps, you will take the object from its place, and bring it to the great cherry tree in the Western Market. I will be waiting there for you."

"I... will..."

"You must not fail in this, or it will mean your death."

"I... will... not."

Tsuji-sama stared. "What?"

"I will not." The girl was blinking her black eyes, and her hands limply slapped at her robes, as if she were trying to awaken herself from a nightmare. "I will not betray my Mistress."

And for a moment, there was only the wind in the cedars.

The last few days had been difficult ones for Tsuji-sama, and to be balked now, when the goal was in sight, was too much. "Filth, offal, guttersnipe, sub-human sand-crab girl, you will do as you are told! You _will!_ I am your Master! I am –"

There was a sudden dark shape, a cracking sound, and a terrible stinging pain in his hand, and he shrieked.

The crystal was gone, and it was no longer his cornered mascot in front of him, but a – woman, or man? – with strangely yellow hair. She was brandishing a sword in his direction.

"I think that's enough jiggery-pokery for one afternoon, sir," she – yes, she – said in a sly, mocking voice. "We in the Guild take it in ill part when a suspicious stranger molests our little sisters in this fashion. And then we do something ill to _his _part."

"Satou-sama –" there was the beggar-girl peeping around the swordswoman's shoulder. Her eyes were clear. All to do again!

"It's all right, Yumi-chan," said Satou-sama calmly, not taking her eyes off Tsujimoto. "I won't let him touch one hair of your strangely adorable head. En garde, recreant!"

"What does 'en gardu' mean?" Tsuji-sama wanted to know. He clutched at his stinging hand a bit, and looked about for possible escape routes.

"It means 'Draw your sword and let's settle this like gentlemen.'"

"You are not a gentleman, and I haven't got a sword." Tsuji-sama was growing more confused by the minute. _Like gentlemen?... With_ swords_?..._

"True, I'm neither a man, nor gentle. But I do have a sword. So, since you refuse to give me satisfaction, I shall have to knock you down and give you a thumping with the flat."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Satou-sama stared a bit. "Why the devil wouldn't I?"

And she did it.

* * *

Yumi watched as Satou-sama feinted at Tsuji-sama's head with her blade, took his legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, and began to pummel him with the flat as promised. Tsuji-sama let out a series of heart-rending shrieks; he was plainly unused to this kind of treatment.

It was strange to see Satou-sama like this. Her clownishness and grinning good humour had vanished in an instant, along with her slow, limping shamble. Her hair whipped about, staying out of her eyes somehow, and her grey eyes flashed with anger, and her movements were so fast they were difficult to track...

...But then Yumi's mind was taken up with other concerns.

People were trying to use her against Sachiko-sama.

That was bad enough, but the possibility that she might actually be an effective weapon was horrifying.

One hand was over her mouth, and she felt tears running down her cheeks. She didn't want to leave Sachiko-sama. She didn't want to die. Life had become so sweet in the last couple of days. She wanted to live with Sachiko-sama, and with Rei-sama and Yoshino-san. And yes – with Satou-sama too, as scary as Satou-sama was at the moment. She wanted to go on the Questioning, she wanted to see the divine Amaterako-sama, and hear the music in the gorge... at Sachiko-sama's side... for always...

But her head was still foggy from what Tsuji-sama had done to her, and she knew that she was anybody's to command. She had gone with Prince Suguru because he'd asked her. She had nearly succumbed to Tsuji-sama's magic... there were dark forces, demons everywhere, and she was a tool, a weapon, waiting for any fiend to pick her up and use her against the one person she loved and respected most in all the world.

She had to go away. Now, while no one was looking. It went against the grain, to leave without a word, without seeing Sachiko-sama one more time... but if she stayed for one more sight of her, would she be able to leave?

She backed away from the preoccupied Satou-sama and the squealing Tsuji-sama. She turned south, and at the turn it was as if something was tearing inside her. She shed her robes, kicked away her shoes. Her bare feet remembered the stony earth, and in remembering, cast aside the present race, and dreamed another dream altogether...

* * *

"HOLD HARD!"

The voice was husky, and it shot up by an octave or two in the middle of "hard," but Sei stopped thumping the man anyway and looked up.

The Emperor was coming, along with two-thirds of the Guild high council and a couple of spare Dragons. Sachiko was leading the field, but it was the Emperor who had shouted.

Sei smiled a greeting at Sachiko, who just grimaced and said, "Sei, where's Yumi?"

Sei looked around, suddenly at a loss. She seemed to have got a bit carried away. Yumi was gone, and here she was thumping this man for no visible reason. Though it did feel good. "I'm sorry, Sachiko. She _was_ here, but she seems to have done a runner while I was correcting this oaf."

"What was he doing?" Youko wanted to know.

"Phew, long story," Sei said. "He was using some kind of tu'penny-ha'penny magic to get Yumi in his power. A crystal, as I thought. I knocked it out of his hand." She looked around. Nowhere in sight. Probably wouldn't be easy to find. Oh, she was looking worse and worse...

Sachiko had started to dash off, but Fujiwara-dono had put a hand on her shoulder, and was telling her, "I know you want to find your young friend, but you should probably first get some idea of which way to go."

Sei was ready to start thumping herself. She'd lost Yumi after all. Sachiko had relied on her... _Why did Yumi run?_

Sachiko took a deep breath. "Sei, why would this man want Yumi in his control?"

And then there were hurried footfalls, and Rei and Shimako had come rushing up, breathing hard. Well, Sei could score one point, perhaps, little as it would console Sachiko for the loss of Yumi. "Rei! Do you know this face?" She stooped, clutched the cringing worm's pigtails, and hoisted his head so his face was in view.

"In Heaven's name!" said the Emperor.

"Unnatural bitch!" whined the prisoner. "Unhand me, or I'll have you flayed!"

"You might want to reassess your position before you try that," Sei said with a happy smile.

"Why, that's one of the three villains we surprised the other night, outside our inn," Rei said wonderingly. "The chickenhearted one who wouldn't fight."

"One of the miscreants who sent Yumi up to your room the other night," Sei agreed, turning to Sachiko. "Given that he was just now trying to get Yumi under his control, and given his imperious manner, I suspect he's the ringleader of the operation." Sei looked now at the Emperor. "Do you perchance know this man, your Imperial Majesty?"

"_I_ certainly do," Suga-sama interposed. "That is Tsujimoto no Fujito. He was banished from court a year ago. Appropriation of the wrong monies, and sleeping with the wrong daughters, as I recall."

"Oh?" It was like Suga-sama to butt in at this point, Sei reflected. "How interesting. So, _your Imperial Majesty_, he shouldn't be here?"

"He should be in Kyushu," the Emperor agreed. "He shouldn't be in Heian Kyo, and he certainly shouldn't be inside the Nine-Fold Enclosure. Tsujimoto-san, what do you here?"

Tsujimoto no Fujito did not speak. He just glared imperiously at the ground, which was an inch from his nose.

"Er," said the Emperor miserably. He rubbed his own nose with the back of his hand a bit.

Fujiwara-dono came forward. "Give me his head, Satou-san."

Sei relinquished the man's head to the wizened sorceress, who bent over the recreant with a terrible weight of power. Strange fires seemed to gleam in her eyes.

There was a suffocating atmosphere among all those there in the garden. The Emperor put his hands up to his face, ready to shield his vision from the ultimate horror.

Then Fujiwara-dono gave Tsujimoto's eyes a two-fingered poke, and slapped his face briskly a few times. Tsujimoto yelped and sniveled. "Your soul to perdition, you insolent little shit," Fujiwara-dono excoriated him calmly. "When the Emperor asks you a question, you answer him, and hop to it, or I'll get a firm grip on your tongue and YANK it heartlessly. Do you hear me?"

"Enough," he whined.

Fujiwara-dono dropped his head negligently so that his nose bumped in the dust, and she stood over him. "Or maybe I'll just give you to Satou-san to play with some more. It looked like she was enjoying herself. Would you like that?"

"What in the world is going on?"

Everyone looked up. Shimazu Yoshino had arrived. She wasn't the sort to be self-conscious, easily embarrassed, but she did seem to wilt a little under the annoyed gaze of the Guild leadership, the confused one of the Emperor, and the brief glance, the wounded and wounding look, the turning-away of Rei.

"Yumi has disappeared, Yoshino," Sachiko said. She was visibly struggling to be calm, gentle. "You didn't happen to see where she went, did you?"

"No. I've been, um, preoccupied," Yoshino answered, glaring at Rei. Then she swivelled full-face back to Sachiko. "What, Yumi-san's _disappeared_? That's awful! Are we looking for her?"

"Yes. I need to know if this person –" Sachiko waved an arm at the prone man flinching at the feet of Fujiwara-dono and Satou Sei – "has any idea of where she went."

"I don't," said Tsujimoto no Fujito, with his newly acquired face-down-on-the-ground haughtiness, "and if I did know, I wouldn't tell _you_."

* * *

Sachiko went to him. She reached down. She got him by the hair. Looking him fully in the face for the first time, she saw something jumping in his eyes. She knew what he was going to do even before his hand disappeared under his robes.

She gave him the credit of not believing it was something he'd ordinarily do. People kept grabbing his hair, he'd been beaten and pummeled into a corner, and now he was lashing out, dangerously, perhaps because he'd seen something in her eyes that he thought meant his doom.

Someone, Sachiko never found out who, cried "Knife! Knife –" And, before the second "knife" had been said, there the knife was, buried halfway to the hilt – in Tsujimoto's left arm.

He screamed.

Before he could make up his scattered mind what to do about the knife in his arm, the hilt still in his hand, Sachiko's right hand had closed over it. Her left hand still gripped his hair.

He gazed at her in terror.

"Stabbed yourself," she said, calmly. "Clumsy of you. But we sorceresses sometimes make people nervous, and they do things like that. I'm sure we don't intend to. And now... An unexpected treat! I am in complete control of this arm. What do you suggest I do with it?"

"Please let go," he whispered. "Please let go, please let go, please –"

"What were you doing with Yumi?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I was only –"

"Only using some magic on her involving a crystal. Only trying to assert control over her, for some dark end, it doesn't matter to me so much what you were trying to do – I think I have a suspicion what it was. What matters to me is that you were using Yumi to do it. Correct?"

"I didn't mean her any – AAAAGH –"

"It seems to hurt you particularly badly when I turn it just so rightwards; it scrapes against something. I shall try to avoid doing that in future, though I can promise nothing. _Look at me_." She struck at him with her voice and her eyes, and his shining eyes were locked on her dark ones willy nilly. "I have news for you, Tsujimoto-san. Yumi is my imouto now. That means she is off-limits to you. You do not spin your filthy crystals at her. You do not come near her, speak to her, ever again. If you do I will destroy you so completely there won't even be a memory –"

"– stop – please –" The worm was crying. His nose was running. The filthy cowardly little –

Sachiko felt a hand on her shoulder. Tightening her grip on Tsujimoto's knife hand – he keened – she turned her head to look. It was Sei.

"That's enough, Sachiko," Sei said calmly.

"Why do you interfere?" Sachiko hissed.

"I've given him a thrashing, and you've scared the crap out of him. It's enough."

"Enough? Yumi is gone! You lost Yumi, Satou-san. This man –"

"If you keep going the way you're going, you'll kill him. He's a prisoner and a wounded man. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Sachiko started. Her grip on the knife hand lessened. "I wasn't..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She looked around. Most everybody seemed to be very interested in the ground, or the trees. _A knife in his arm won't_ kill _him, however I twist it._ Only Youko and Fujiwara-dono were looking at her, and their faces were unreadable.

_I wasn't going to kill him. Was I?..._

"Sacchan, please don't hurt him," came a new voice.

Sachiko looked up, along with everyone else.

Prince Suguru had joined them. He stood by the fountain. He looked more moved than she'd ever seen him. His eyes kept shifting to the prostrate man who was her prey.

"I saw where she went, Sacchan," he went on. "South. Back into the City, I suppose." He pointed over the hillock.

"Where were you hidden to see that, your highness?" Fujiwara-dono wondered.

"In the cedars there," he said calmly, with a small gesture.

Sachiko stood. She stared at him, her inaccessible yet ubiquitous cousin. The calm accusation in her look was answered by acquiescence, even a little shame in his.

"This villain is an old friend of yours, isn't he?" she said levelly, prodding Tsujimoto gently with her shoe. "I used to hear a lot about the two of you, before he was banished."

"Sacchan, please let me explain –"

"You are dead to me." Cold. Brusque. Final.

In the stunned silence that followed, Sachiko turned on her heel and began to head south. She hoped she was brushing off the dust of the old family garden for good. She had always hated this garden.


	7. The Compass Points

I'm back. Chapter Six. Broken hearts everywhere. Chee. What a mess.

Sorry about the wait. Was in a play, work full time job, got rid of stupid roommate and have been trying to get apartment in fit condition to show to prospective smart roommates. You don't want to hear my problems. Or I don't want to talk about them, which amounts to the same thing. It's a load off my mind to get this posted at last. The next one will _not_ take as long; you have my word.

Glossary: "Yoshinosuke": Eriko is playing around; -suke is an ending more usually found on boys' names. "We have perhaps an hour..." : Two hours to us. The Heian day was divided into twelve hours, each one two of our hours long, each named after, naturally, an animal of the Chinese zodiac. The "hour of the Boar" is around 10:00pm. "Kannon-sama": Chinese Guanyin, the female bodhisattva of compassion; eleven-headed, thousand-handed, Kannon the Merciful. "Rei-pochi": Noriko is being fanciful. "Pochi" is a fairly common dog name in Japan, roughly equivalent to "Spot" or "Rover." (Though I don't know how often it's used as an honorific.) I gather dogs aren't kept as pets in Japan as often as over here, and I'm not sure about the history of the practice, but Sei Shonagon does tell a rather sad story about a pet dog, so we can be fairly sure the idea wouldn't have been completely strange to her contemporaries.

Thanks as always to Rosa Chinensis, for helping me chase down loose ends and stomp on them before they can breed.

On with the show. Hope it's worth the wait!

* * *

VI. The Compass Points

When Sei found Sachiko, she was kneeling on the ground near the southern wall of the enclosure and holding one of Yumi's shoes. There seemed to be an aura of winter around her; Sei almost felt the temperature drop as she came near.

"Sachiko..." Sei said. She steeled herself. She wondered if she was going to get the same treatment as Suguru. Sachiko was certainly in the right mood to dish it out. "This, well, this may not be as black as it appears..."

Sachiko looked up. Her face had that blank, expressionless calm which usually boded extremely ill for whomever she directed it at. And she directed it at Sei for a very long moment. Sei, who had stared down dragons (the sort with actual wings), nevertheless felt a tickle of nervousness.

"Spare me the hollow words of comfort," Sachiko said at last. "You lost track of her, Sei."

Sei looked off toward Mount Hiei in the northeast. "Yes. Shimako came up, and I was talking to her. I was going to introduce them. But when I looked for her, Yumi was gone. I looked away from her for a minute at most. I understand your being upset, but..." Sei didn't know just what to say. "Look –"

"Never mind about that right now."

"Pardon?"

"Recriminations are a waste of time. I might have the leisure later on –" a stabbing glance – "but not now. Yumi's missing, and she has to be found."

Sei's mind cleared. Sachiko wasn't made to grant forgiveness easily, but then, Sei wasn't made to ask for it. As long as they both understood that – "You're right, Sachiko, my old frozen hedgehog. Look, maybe she's just gone back to the Inn."

"Please do not call me an old frozen hedgehog. And why –" Sachiko held up the shoe, and a corner of pale green robe – "would she leave _these_ behind?"

"You have me there," Sei admitted. "My _young_ frozen hedgehog."

Sachiko seemed oblivious to this last sally. Mystification increased in her brows. "She ran away. _Why_ did she run away?"

"Maybe –"

"What did I do wrong?" This was spoken low, almost as if Sachiko were talking to herself.

Sei boggled. "Sachiko, I doubt like hell it was anything _you_ did."

Sachiko looked up. "You're sure?"

Sachiko's blank calm was eroding. She was more vulnerable than Sei had ever seen her, and Sei felt a touch of pity. And fear. "Come _on_, my old buttered parsnip. Yumi's mad about you! We've all seen... The only reason I can think of that makes sense is, she must have thought it would be best for _you_ if she left –"

"How could _that_ be the best thing for me?" Sachiko rose suddenly. She seemed to be on the point of that terrible cold fury again.

"Well, when we find her, you can ask her that. Please don't lose your cool again, Sachiko –"

"I won't," she said curtly. "Fujiwara-dono was right. If I am to find her, help her, I have to keep my head. But the idea of her leaving being good for me is foolish – I was _balanced_, Sei. It's as if an important piece was missing, and I didn't know until I found her – and lost her –"

They turned at a noise, and there were a great many well-known faces approaching, from the garden. Youko. Rei and Yoshino, carefully not looking at one another. And Shimako, moving now to Sei's side. And there was Eriko, how nice, it had been months since Sei had seen her.

_The Gang's all here!..._

"We're looking for Yumi, Sachiko. No argument," Youko said.

"But we leave on the Questioning tomorrow morning –" Sachiko ran her eyes over them. "You all have so much to do –"

"_You_, Sachiko, should go back to the Inn and wait. You're still supposed to be guarding the egg."

Youko was looking at Sachiko in a calm, hard way. _She's furious about what just happened,_ Sei realized. _Everybody is mad at everybody else – there's the devil to pay, and no pitch hot. Lady Mary, pity us._

After letting the Look sink in a bit, Youko turned to the others. "Let's divide the city into quarters. I'm northwest, Sei is northeast, Rei-chan is southwest, Eriko is southeast. Shimako-chan, you can assist Sei of course, and Yoshino-chan –"

"I'd like to come with you, Youko-sama."

Yoshino's voice, while perfectly audible, was still more subdued than anyone was used to hearing it.

Rei was not looking at anybody. She appeared to be glaring at a tree branch to her right.

Youko didn't let that silence go on any longer than she could help. "I have just chosen a new imouto, Yoshino-chan, and I think she'll want to assist me. But perhaps Eriko would –"

"You come along with me, Yoshinosuke," said Eriko. "We'll have some laughs, I bet."

Yoshino went to stand by Eriko.

"I'll trade with Rei, I think," Sei said. "I've a lead I'd like to try in the southwest."

"Of course; the southwest is really your city, isn't it, Sei?" Youko gave her a very dear smile. "Very well. Rei-chan?..."

"I'll take the northeast," Rei affirmed. "Noriko-chan can help me."

When this did not provoke a shriek of indignation from Yoshino, Sei was positive that something was desperately wrong, and resolved to get a hold of Rei and grill her at the earliest opportunity. Right now, Yumi took priority, however.

Sachiko, for her part, had folded and rolled Yumi's outer robes, and now put them through the toes of the sandals, and handed the little bundle to Sei. "I suspect you'll be the one to find her. Will you see that she puts these on? The day is turning chilly."

Sei accepted the items gingerly. She was still waiting for an explosion, from any of the possible local tinderboxes, and perhaps it was mischief that made her say, "You're taking this well, Sachiko," in an offhand manner.

"I'm not," Sachiko answered calmly. She turned to Youko, and her voice remained calm. "I'm furious at you. I think you've arranged things high-handedly. I think that as she's _my_ imouto, it's _my_ job to find her, not yours, Sei's, or anyone else's. I think that if I don't go looking, but send everyone else instead, that tells her I don't care about her enough to look myself. I think that the egg could be taken back and temporarily lodged in its usual prison at the Guild offices while I search for Yumi. I think a lot of other things, which I hold back from saying, because they might hurt people's feelings. But you and everyone else seem to think, as with one mind, that I should stay in my room with my nose to the wall while the grownups look for Yumi. So I succumb to majority opinion, re-swallow my spleen, escort the novices back to the Guild dormitories – which I feel sure you were about to ask me to do, with your usual tact and charm – and then I'll go home, play with my dolls, and sulk. But you have not heard the last of this, Mizuno-sama."

Sachiko turned and walked back toward the Pine Grove. A sudden wind whipped up, causing the trees and bushes around her to express in involuntary dance the agitation she no doubt felt inside, and whipped the hems of her robes about her waist and legs. She continued to walk steadily, however, and would no doubt be a model of propriety in fulfilling her duties with the novices.

The others looked sympathetically at Youko, whose left eyebrow was twitching a bit. Even Yoshino and Rei seemed to have forgotten their own troubles for the moment.

"Do you still have all your fingers and toes?" Sei asked solicitously. "I can help you look –"

"Shut up, Sei. Come on, everyone. We have perhaps an hour before we start to lose the sun."

"I'll go after Sachiko," Rei said calmly. "I have to pick up Noriko-chan, anyway."

Yoshino moved quickly to Rei's side. "Rei-chan," she hissed, grabbing at Rei's arm, "why do you have to be so –"

And Rei shook her off. "I would rather you didn't hang on me," she said quietly, with no particular emphasis. She did not look at Yoshino. "I wish to be left alone."

And she went off after Sachiko, leaving Yoshino stunned and silent, and everyone else unable to look at her.

* * *

Youko caught up with Fujiwara-dono in the front room of the Jijuden, where she had accompanied the Emperor after the scene in the garden. The Emperor was now in retirement with Fujiwara no Yukinaga. "It's a bit upsetting for everyone, especially the boy – an exile being caught in the Enclosure," Fujiwara-dono confided in her cheerfully. "Of course, it was known that he had gone missing from Kyushu, but it was assumed that he had been murdered by robbers, or eaten by beasts in the wilderness. He had no escort, you see."

"Will he be executed?"

"Probably. Yuki-chan has never liked him, and of course the wretch has no influence left apart from Prince Suguru, who has troubles of his own now. But I don't know... Toru-chan looks up to Prince Suguru. On the other hand, Yuki-chan has ruled Toru-chan since the boy was five... Well, I have my own work to be getting on with. But do keep me informed on the Yumi-kun matter. She seems a dear girl. Look for a few hours, and if you can't find her, I'll have a go."

"I just... I beg your pardon," Youko said. "I shouldn't bother you with –"

"Mizuno-san." Fujiwara-dono spoke in a gentler tone now. She came forward and put a hand on Youko's shoulder. "You're worried about Ogasawara-kun. Of course you are."

"Not worried about her, so much as furious at her."

"Well, that too."

"Aren't you, Fujiwara-dono?" Youko looked hard at her teacher. "I mean to say... she went _mad_."

"I know."

"Miss Perfect Control _lost_ control, completely." Youko fumed more, the more she thought about it.

"I saw."

"And it was mostly only friends of hers who saw it, but even so, I expect it will be all over the Guild – all over the _City_ – in a matter of days. The _Emperor_ saw it! My imouto – in front of the Emperor –"

"There, there, my pet," Fujiwara-dono was patting Youko's cheek. "You're a bit upset; only natural."

"If this does get around –"

Fujiwara-dono cut in unexpectedly, in a completely different tone from what she'd been using. "It will enhance the Guild's rather fierce reputation with a fresh example, without adding to it in any significant way. Pray compose yourself, Mizuno-san. You know perfectly well that we are known for overkill and bloodlust. The reputation is not entirely deserved, but there have been a few who lived up to it, and some of our more admired members as well. Ogasawara-kun looks a right humanitarian next to some of them." This startled Youko, and she supposed it showed on her face, as Fujiwara-dono looked at her sadly, and sighed. "When a friend counselled mercy and forbearance, she _listened_. The more notorious angry sorceresses often haven't."

Youko felt some chagrin. Fujiwara-dono had tended to treat her more or less as an equal, ever since she had been accorded the dignity of a Winging Crane, and only occasionally slipped back into regarding her as a dunderheaded junior. "I'm sorry, Fujiwara-dono. I only –" She cut herself off. Best not to qualify the apology. "This unworthy one begs forgiveness."

"Granted. Mizuno-san, I understand your concern. But Ogasawara-kun's progress is of particular interest to me, as you know, and part of this teaching business is to make sure all parts and passions are in place. A sorceress who is an incomplete person may do incomplete work, or may do wickedness without meaning to, unpredictably. This is the first time I have ever seen Ogasawara-kun really passionate about anything, so much so that she lost her sangfroid, and it's something of a relief to me. No, no. I agree that such behavior cannot be countenanced. But, Mizuno-san... try an experiment."

"Fujiwara-dono, perhaps I should –"

"The search for Yumi-kun, of course. Humor me for a moment. Think back a few years, to when you first made Ogasawara-kun your soror mystica. A sheltered girl, from a good house. A defenseless girl, not quite grown. A difficult girl, sometimes not easy to like perhaps, but nevertheless a girl you came to cherish quite quickly. A girl who clung to your sleeve when she didn't understand what was happening. I haven't seen her do that in quite a while, but I remember her doing it more than once, and I remember wondering what combination of fear and devotion would allow a girl like that to show weakness in public. Oh, yes, she and I come from the same neighborhood, you know. And I remember how protective you were. An arm around her shoulder, whenever she seemed to need it. She always slept in your tent when a-journeying, in your bedroll, even –"

"Fujiwara-dono! Do you suggest that I might have ever done what she did, today? Just because I –" Youko stopped. Fujiwara-dono's words had brought back a time she remembered without remembering, it might be said; a time she could easily acknowledge had indeed passed in her life, though she didn't often recall it in detail. She remembered her feelings for her imouto, who had looked up to her so, and who had seemed unable to think of any better way of spending her time than to spend it with Youko. And she remembered her own fears, back then: _Am I the right teacher for her? Will I be able to keep her on the straight path? Or am I wronging her by pretending, to both of us and to the world, that I am the mistress she needs?_ Youko's whole disposition, as well as her training, was never to show uncertainty, and to always see the best course, and see it clearly, and steer for it. Like any human person she was still subject to uncertainty however, and came closer to showing it over Sachiko than anything else... because at the time Sachiko had been more important than anything else... _or_ almost _anything else... but of all the important things, Sachiko was closest, and most vulnerable_... _I need to know I've done right by her; that, more than anything, is what upsets me about what happened today, the thought that it happened because I left something out of her training... I need to know she's going to be all right... I –_

"Love her? Yes; you love her. And no, I'm not suggesting that you would ever do anything as nasty as what she did today; you've always had a bit too much self-control for that. You keep your head, Mizuno-san, even when all about you are losing theirs, and blaming it on you. You are known for it. But I strongly suspect that, if your difficult, headstrong, sometimes ill-natured little darling had ever been molested in any way, and you had happened to catch the molester –"

"I'm telling you I _wouldn't_, Fujiwara-dono!"

"No, no, you wouldn't. But, Mizuno-san, you _would_ have had to _stop_ yourself from doing it."

Youko said nothing. There was really nothing she could say.

"I sometimes think that we are very cruel, we of the Guild," Fujiwara-dono went on, stepping to a window. "We are a sort of socially-sanctioned anti-society bastion. We take girls from their families, and teach them skills subversive of reality, of the waking world itself... our work is necessary perhaps for the survival of the Empire, but it represents the triumph of dream over waking, shadow over substance: the reversal of their positions. People in general are therefore naturally suspicious of it, and wise men are always resentful of any power that is not theirs. The girls find themselves essentially disowned by their relatives – oh, until they choose to leave the Guild, perform acts of cleansing, pilgrimages, marry, do as they're told, and so on. But while they're with us, none of their family or any of the people they grew up with want to have anything much to do with them. And in exchange for this sacrifice, we give the girls distant, unattainable mothers, like Suga-sama and myself. A bit like having a wolf or a bear, or sometimes a demon, for a mother. Is it not so?...

"Is it any wonder that sometimes a sorceress loses her temper?... No matter which way a woman goes, wife, nun, sorceress, it seems as if the price is too steep.

"We _do_ give them sisterhood, however. We give them older sisters, and later younger sisters. And their lives in the Guild are defined through these relationships, to a startling extent... I talk to old girls sometimes, girls who left the Guild, usually around Dragon level, and are now mothers and grandmothers. Often girls who served in Koryo, or the Manchurian wars; very ably, some of them. Do they remember their great deeds, or the deeds of the great sorceresses they knew? Perhaps. But what they mostly talk about is their sisters. The older sisters who protected them, and the younger sisters they themselves protected. The girls they lived and served with. And they remember every trivial thing about them, as if it was yesterday." Fujiwara-dono shook her head. "Sad. All that knowledge of one another, and all that love in spite of the knowledge. Days and years of work and love intertwined. All meaningless now, except as beautiful memories, to comfort them when they're lonely, when their husbands or their children ignore them, when nobody understands them.

"You're all terribly important to each other. But I think... Mizuno-san... that Yumi-kun may be even more important to Ogasawara-kun than Ogasawara-kun was to you."

Youko said nothing.

"You know your own imouto best, so tell me if you really think I'm wrong. Yumi-kun had nothing, before Ogasawara-kun found her. And Yumi-kun is much more open with her feelings than Ogasawara-kun ever has been or will be. Yumi-kun adores her mistress and makes no secret of it. And Ogasawara-kun... has changed. Visibly. In less than two days. Extraordinary, is it not?"

"What does it all mean?" Youko was in a state of groping for words and ideas, as was often the case when Fujiwara-dono finally let on what she was thinking.

"I have no idea," Fujiwara-dono answered, without a trace of embarrassment. "There is a mystery here. It needs solving. Finding Yumi-kun may of itself necessitate a solution, or a partial one."

"I think that's what Sei has in mind," Youko mused. "Something she said when we parted, about retracing Yumi's steps –"

Fujiwara-dono smiled wolfishly. "She's nobody's fool, is Satou-san. I'm hoping she'll show some interest in attaining to the Guild leadership one day soon. Somehow I can't see her leaving to get married –"

"No," Youko said, with more abrupt firmness than was really necessary. She had a moment of confusion, made heavier by the weight of Fujiwara-dono's gentle, knowing smile pressing down on it, then added, "I'm not going anywhere either, Fujiwara-dono." Then a moment of greater confusion. Fujiwara-dono had always seemed to be grooming Youko for something, but had never said just what, and Youko hadn't been able to push herself to ask until this moment. "If it isn't the grossest impertinence to put my unworthy self forward..." She looked carefully at the floor, still feeling Fujiwara-dono's gentle, undemanding, ponderous gaze, light as wreaths of mountain cloud, heavy as the jungles of the south.

"Yes..." Fujiwara-dono said at last. "Yes. I did put your name forward as Grand Mugwump of the Dragons for a reason, of course. I'd have to be a fool, or Suga-san, not to see your many strengths. Your weaknesses you know about, and we have been working on them, you and I... Yes. With you and Satou-san primed to lead the Guild together, I could rest easy about the future. Just give me a little time..."

Fujiwara-dono was gone. There was no real moment of departure, just a brief transitional moment when Youko was not sure what, if anything, was in the room with her. The old mage was unaccountable that way; she could usually be found in her office and audience chamber on the third story at the northern end of the Guild building, but apart from that one never knew when she was going to arrive or depart. Youko had found that simply accommodating Fujiwara-dono's ways had helped her get on in the Dragon Order more than any other single thing she'd done.

She walked out of the Jijuden, and strolled south to the steps of the Throne Hall, where her new soror mystica was waiting under the cherry tree. She was in fact kicking the trunk absently with the toe of one sandal, and not caring that she was getting cherry blossoms in her hair. _My second soror mystica, and probably my last. Just as well._ Thinking of anyone other than Sachiko as her imouto was going to be strange enough as it was. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Touko."

"You aren't going to call me Touko-san?" the girl said, looking up sulkily from the roots.

"I don't have any plans that way, no."

"But, Youko-sama!..."

"And you call me 'Mistress,' not 'Youko-sama.' All right?"

"Oh, very well. Mistress."

"If it seems arbitrary, that's because it is. It's just the way we go on, in the Guild... Fujiwara-dono has said her say, and we have to make up for lost time. Come along, by my side."

They walked south, through two gates, and out into the City again. Youko felt herself relax. Her family had been servants to various families of the Yokibito for several generations, and she always felt centuries of conditioning settle like heavy snowdrifts on her shoulders when she went into the Nine-Fold Enclosure. Freedom was outside the Enclosure. _Real freedom is completely outside the city,_ she reflected, as she had done before, and felt a pleasant quiver of anticipation for the morning.

They turned west on Second Street. The houses to the south became less opulent and less attractive as they moved further west, and the influence of the City of the Right became stronger. Touko was quiet, pensive for most of the way.

Then, as they were turning south on Nishiomiya Avenue, headed in the general direction of the Guild offices, Touko spoke. "Fujiwara-dono examined this Yumi, didn't she? Searched her mind?"

"Why, yes, she did. How did you know about that?"

"Hikaru-san overheard Yoshino-san and the General talking about it."

"Interesting. Indiscreet, perhaps. Oh, not that it's a great secret. But why do you bring it up?"

"Fujiwara-dono could probably find her faster than anybody, couldn't she?"

"Yes. And if time or the gravest danger were a consideration, she would probably do it herself. She prefers to let us manage things ourselves as much as possible. She has to know that ours are capable hands to leave the Guild in. As it is, we go a-Questioning in the morning, and if we haven't found little Yumi by the hour of the Boar, I will have to confess my failure, and Fujiwara-dono will have to exert herself."

"You'll wake an old lady at that hour?"

Youko smiled. "Fujiwara-dono does not actually sleep – or at least, I've never been able to catch her at it. And it's unwise to call her an old lady."

Touko frowned. "We've put a lot of distance between us now. Do you really think she can hear me all the way out here?"

"'Mistress.'"

"Mistress, sorry."

"Yes, I do. And there's no way of knowing when she'll turn up anyway."

Pause.

"She _is_ an old lady."

"She is, or she might be. But she does not care to have any fresh-faced girl tell her of it." _Especially not one like you, with an extra helping of sauce, and ridiculous curls in her hair._

Touko stared for a moment, and then smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, Mistress."

"You do that."

* * *

Eriko-sama and Yoshino were moving around the northern fringes of the Great Eastern Market, seeking the large pinkish-white mass of the cherry tree at its center. Eriko-sama was going to help Yoshino with the search spell. It was a bit more advanced magic than Yoshino was used to performing, but as Eriko-sama had not so much as seen Yumi yet, it had to be Yoshino who cast it. Or so Eriko-sama said. Yoshino, even as preoccupied as she was, suspected Eriko-sama of wanting to give her a difficult time, to teach her some sort of dreary lesson...

"What's the trouble with you and Rei, Yoshino?" Eriko-sama said abruptly, as they approached the tree.

"It's nothing," Yoshino said. Then wished she hadn't said anything, because "It's nothing," after the scene in the garden, sounded stupid.

"It's something. I've never seen you two so at odds before. You argue a lot but even then –"

"I would rather not discuss it, Eriko-sama –"

There was a gentle hand on the back of Yoshino's neck, and Eriko-sama was giving her a sweet, motherly look, under which even Yoshino quailed a bit. "Would you deny your grandsister, Yoshino? Rei is unhappy. She is still very precious to me, and always will be." Eriko-sama's grip on Yoshino's neck tightened ever so slightly. "If you have been trifling with her feelings, you little minx –"

"I tried to talk to her and she _shoved _me," Yoshino burst out. "She wouldn't even look at me. If I matter to her so little, then –"

"You know better, Yoshino. If there is one person in all the world who knows Hasekura Rei better than I, that one is you, who else? Level with me, you exasperating infant. You've been sniffing around boys again, haven't you?"

"I –"

"I really wish you'd make up your mind, you know. When I first noted your taste for masculine company, I was very happy for you – 'A normal sister!' I thought. 'It's too bad for Rei, but Rei will have to grow up, I suppose. She'll get over it.' Except she _can't_ get over it, because you keep going back to her. You keep bouncing back and forth: normal boy-hunger, and the floating world of girls together, and back again. You pull your cousin about so, twist her between two poles, I'm amazed she's still the same shape. I don't know why you don't just stab her in the heart and get it over with –"

"_You_ –"

"Shshsh," Eriko-sama shshshed.

"It's not _my_ fault," Yoshino said with furious hoarseness. "It's _not_. Why is she such a _fool_?"

"She's a fool, is she? A blithering, dunderheaded fool, moron, idiot of a Dragon-level sorceress. Hm. And that's why you chase after boys?"

Yoshino just glared, and growled a little. Eriko-sama was a hateful person. Funny she'd never realised it until now.

"You know perfectly well you chase after boys because you like them, not because Rei's a fool. Rei is no fool – or rather, the one thing she's foolish about is you. She loves you to distraction. And she really imagines the two of you can make a life together. It'll never last, of course. Or it might last just long enough for you to both be senior sorceresses of unmarriageable age. But you don't love her, not really, and you won't be able to be happy with her, or make her happy in the end, and you might well destroy her with your hatred, with your jealousy for the life you might have had, the life you'll think she kept you from, when really it'll be _you_ who kept _her_ from a better life, purely and simply because you enjoy _tormenting_ her, because deep down you _hate_ her – whoops!" Eriko-sama had to dodge, here, because Yoshinosuke had started swinging at her. Yoshinosuke had had about enough of this –

Then Yoshino was clutching her chest and gasping. There were sharp pains, and her chest was lurching and heaving, like her heart was trying to batter its way out –

Eriko-sama's arms were around her in an instant. Yoshino felt her chest calm down, the pain fade, a sun of warmth between them, and heard Eriko-sama singing in her ear:

Storms take the heavens  
Unawares; the fire takes  
The highest treetops.  
The earth devours Heaven's pain;  
All the rivers swell to flood.

The storm had passed. Yoshino felt able to stand, but still clutched at Eriko-sama, twisting her robes in angry fists. "I _love_ Rei-chan – I don't want to hurt her ever – that was a cruel, wicked thing to say..."

"Yes, I know," Eriko-sama murmured in the same ear. "It would take a blind fool not to see how you love her. But Yoshino, you do hurt her with these little games of yours, and it would take a blind fool not to see _that_. Or a boy-crazy Yoshino, one of the two."

Yoshino had followed her own excitement, which she tended to do anyway. Usually Rei-chan encouraged that, and no one else cared. It seemed that this was a different matter, though: Rei-chan was angry, Yumi-san was missing, and everyone was worried. Her heart did whisper that she should have known quite well how Rei-chan would react. But she had thought she could have a little fun without Rei-chan finding out about it.

_Oh, Rei-chan... oh, Yumi-san..._ "What should I do?"

"I don't know. But the two of you have to find a better arrangement than the current one. You are a sweet, pretty little girl with the soul of a sweaty, hairy warrior, and you have a great and terrible power over your Rei-chan. You could destroy her, not because you're evil or you hate her, but through simple carelessness. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

"No. No, never. I'll talk to her, Eriko-sama. I will. If she'll _let_ me."

"Just give her a little time to cool down. That's all she needs. She loves you too much to stay mad for long."

"...yes. Eriko-sama, we should be looking for Yumi-san."

"Right. You're recovered?"

"Feel fine. Nice trick. Wish I could do it for myself."

"By the time you reach that level, you shouldn't need to."

Yoshino hoped not. "But Eriko-sama, why did we come here?"

"We do it here," Eriko-sama answered, "or rather start it here, because the Eastern Market is the center of the southeast quarter, and this cherry tree is the center of the Market. We start at the center and work our way outwards. That is how these things are done. Now. Make the Eye, as I showed you."

Yoshino scrunched up her face and concentrated – spongy, slimy – difficult – until her whole head was one gigantic eye. "Done."

"Hood! Hood!"

"Ooops –" Yoshino threw the hood of her cloak over her head, or rather over her giant eyeball on the slender stalk of her neck.

"Better. The eye must be lidded, to focus on great distances – and to keep from frightening passers-by out of their wits, of course. They might go right into hysterics. A giant eyeball with two cute little braids hanging down on either side of it! How macabre! Are you ready?"

"Don't make fun of my braids, Eriko-sama. Not when you've suddenly taken it into your head to dress like death on pilgrimage... Say, this isn't easy to keep up..."

"That is why I am here," Eriko-sama chuckled, taking Yoshino's upper arm.

Yoshino felt strength filling her. The feeling, so familiar because Rei-chan did it for her all the time and yet unfamiliar because it was Eriko-sama doing it for her now – a different touch, a different presence within her – made her feel like crying – an urge she suppressed immediately. If she were to weep in her current state, her clothing would be soaked in salt water in short order. She'd seen it happen – embarrassing –

She clutched at the hem of her hood, adjusting it in the air over her enormous pupil. The sun dimmed; the marketeers and shoppers and booths and blankets were under shadow, then there were sharp little lights everywhere decorating the shadowy people without destroying the shadow. Focus... right across the Market, to its northern edge. Focus on that building – through the building. Room upon room, like a strange box puzzle, and little passageways, and little people moving in them, in all directions, toward one another, away from one another, in a kind of dance.

"Ooooo," Yoshino said happily.

Eriko-sama poked Yoshino in the side with one finger. "Don't become _too_ entranced," she cautioned. "Try to focus on the particular person we're looking for."

"I would, like _that_, if she was anywhere in sight," Yoshino said irritably.

"She isn't? Then we change our _site_!" Eriko-sama grabbed Yoshino from behind, under her arms, and lifted her. Eriko-sama's cloak spread out, and resembled black leather wings. In a moment they were airborne, and well above the heads of the crowd, though still low enough to cause them some consternation. A low-flying bird of indeterminate species with a nine-foot wingspread and a giant eyeball on the top of its head, which eschews the more standard bird-sounds such as "caw! and "yark!" in favor of "Yoicks! Hark for'ard! Tally-ho!" and "Once around the Market, Eriko-sama, then north on Red Bird Avenue, and a hard right at Fifth Street! Full speed ahead and damn the pedestrians!" can have that effect on people.

* * *

Toshi the Rat leapt almost a whole foot when the hand landed on his right shoulder.

He didn't like being sneaked up on – as which of us does? But as he was usually the one who did the sneaking, he was even more put out than most of us would be.

Especially as it occurred to him – even before he'd turned around – that the number of people who were actually _capable_ of sneaking up on him was remarkably small and, given the general trend of recent events, there was really only one person it could be.

"There is a strange woman with no manners behind me," he said, to no one in particular, and turned around.

And there was that grin.

"Knew I could count on you, Tosh," said Satou Sei-san.

"And I can always count on _you_, for sure," Toshi said sourly. "What do you want?"

"The accomplices. Need to know where they're holed up."

"I can lead you to them," Toshi suggested. "It isn't far. Do you suppose you could avoid the sneaky-sneaky-aren't-I-clever in future?"

"'Fraid not, Tosh," Sei said gently, as they started out from the Western Market, going south along one of the disreputable and incomplete alleyways between Sai and Nishiomiya Avenues. "The main reasons being: I _am_ sneaky, and I _am_ clever. What's bred in the bone will not out of the flesh. Could you give up being a thief, ever?"

"Yes, yes, Toshi understands, even dim Toshi understands that much. But I nearly tried to stab you, and that probably would have been the end of Toshi –"

"Toshiiii! We've meant so much to each other –"

"Leave off! That's _my_ pouch –"

"Just checking, seeing if there are any _billets doux_ in here. If you've been unfaithful to me, lovebuns, I'll rip your nuts off. Ah! What have we here?"

Toshi finally succeeded in breaking her hold on his neck, skipped away, and crouched there in the alleyway, knife at the ready.

"Very nice linen, hmmm? Oh, with some lovely stitching too – the characters 'Tsuji' and 'Fu.' I don't think I need to ask what that stands for. Isn't that nice? The man you were tailing gave you a present –"

Toshi whimpered.

"– or, no, people don't ordinarily give you presents. Could you have picked his pocket? Or, possibly –"

She was upon him then, like a hawk stooping. She had him by the front of his shirt and was lifting him up, and up, and up, until his head struck the cornice of the house they'd been skulking by, with a dolorous clonk, followed by blurred vision. Toshi was trying to shout, but in his ears it sounded like squeaking. He seemed to hear the mad cries of ravens drawing near.

And this vicious foreign woman, her black cloak flapping about her like a raven's wings, her hands at his collar and her toothy smile burning itself into his eyes, trumpeted in his face, "Ah, now, could you have been fraternizing with the _enemy_, ducky? Fabulous! I wonder how your liver will taste?"

Toshi squealed and beat at her hands, without apparent effect.

"Oh, do you _want_ me to let you go? It's a bit of a drop, me dear old corn-fed piglet. Not fatal, necessarily, but you're courting at least a broken leg... That's better. Toshi, my lumpkin, I'm doing all the talking here. Considering that your chance of continuing your existence in the human form depends on your appeasing me, pleasing me with that crooked tongue of yours – hah! – well, don't you think you ought to be a _bit_ more talkative?"

And so Toshi talked, in a rather high-pitched voice.

By the time he had finished, Sei had relented a little, and brought him back to street level, where he sat on a box, and though still trembling, he was talking in a more accustomed register.

"I see," Sei said, when he had done. "The usual sort of thing. Of course, this Shinji would want to avenge his aniki. Only natural." She smiled, and hummed to herself, her fingers working. She seemed to be intertwining bits of straw she'd taken out of her pocket, a bit of impromptu weaving – it was the first time he'd seen her do anything remotely feminine, and that startled him, a little. She went on: "Though I _do_ wonder... Didn't you tell me Shinji and his aniki had an entirely healthy terror of sorceresses?"

"Yes," Toshi said, "but I guess he's angry enough and in enough pain and fear that he's willing to take a risk. What's happened to his aniki is making him a little crazy. He wants to have _your_ guts, your _friends'_ guts, and even the guts of this Tsuji Fu, although –"

"And so you were going to lead me there and help him ambush me?"

"That's what I agreed with Shinji." An agreement he'd made somewhat against his will, but...

"That's what you _agreed_, eh? Was your hand even then going to be a stranger to your promise?"

"I know you," he said. "I know that even with me coming at you from behind by surprise, the two of us wouldn't be able to take you. It would be suicide. So I was going to skip out at the crucial moment –"

"Leaving Shinji to his fate?" Sei sighed. "You don't disappoint, Toshi old son. For sheer cold-blooded expediency, you are unparalleled."

"I am unworthy of your praise, strange foreign woman with scary teeth when she's mad. So, shall we?..."

"I think not." Sei seemed to have finished her odd little impromptu weaving job, and now she looked up from it at Toshi, unsmiling. The absence of a smile on that face, if anything, chilled him more than the smile had before, when she'd been about to drop him from a great height. He had always called her mad, a crazy foreigner, but for the first time now it occurred to him that she might really _be_ mad, some way. He wondered how many of her friends saw this face she was showing him now, even while he began to wonder again whether he was going to survive this meeting. "You will take me to Shinji and Ichiki's dwelling place," she went on. "You will point it out to me from as far away as possible. I will pay you off. And then you will take a powder. I won't be requiring your services again today, or indeed ever."

"What?"

"Please lead the way, Toshi."

"But..." Toshi was at a loss. This madwoman had inconvenienced him more than once, he had often regarded her as a pestilence in his life, but the thought of never seeing her again was not a happy one, he didn't know why. "You don't believe me, that I wasn't going to help him?"

Sei sighed, and looked away, back toward the Market. There was a difference of opinion between a fish vendor and a customer which was on the verge of coming to blows; the thief and the sorceress were near enough to hear the music, but not the lyrics, of the dispute. The foreign woman watched them without avidity. She still wasn't smiling, but her face wasn't quite as dreadful. "Oh, I _believe_ you, right enough. It certainly sounds like you. I may be as powerful as you say, Toshi, but I am also vulnerable. I have built my armor well, but even the best armor will have a chink in it somewhere big enough for a rat to pinch through't."

She looked back at Toshi, and he almost flinched back from _this_ look; it was a frozen look and seemed to come from a very long way away. "It is simple folly to travel with such a creature in your pocket," she said softly. "And I promised myself long ago I wouldn't die stupid.

"Daylight's a-wasting, Tosh. Lead on."

Toshi rose, not looking at her, and led on.

* * *

Nijo Noriko, walking at the side of Hasekura Rei-sama, was both pleased and displeased with where she was. Pleased because the Mountain Lily Gang of Six was a notorious group and this was her first time working with them – she hoped to make it the "Gang of Seven," if that wasn't presumptuous of her – and displeased because Hasekura Rei-sama, whom she admired highly, seemed to be in a terrible mood, and Noriko was having to step very lightly around her. This was not at all the case, ordinarily. Ordinarily, the difficulty was to keep out of Hasekura-sama's lap. Hasekura-sama had a weakness for cute things. Noriko had always been cute, or she supposed she must have been, as people had been pinching her cheek and stroking her hair uninvited for as long as she could remember.

She had certainly never _objected_ to being in Hasekura-sama's lap – quite the reverse – except that Shimazu Yoshino-san would split apart at the merest sight of it and assume her true form of nine flaming, shrieking harpies. How one little girl could contain nine harpies was a bit of a mystery to Nijo Noriko. Shimazu Yoshino-san was shockingly jealous over her tall, magnificent cousin. Noriko understood readily enough why Yoshino-san valued Hasekura-sama so highly, but didn't think that she – Noriko! – was really a threat to the Great Romance even from the proximity of Hasekura-sama's lap.

But something else _was_ a threat to it, apparently. Noriko had not been privy to recent events, but understood that there had been some trouble and a bit of a scene in the palace gardens, and it seemed clear that Yoshino-san had broken faith with Hasekura-sama somehow. And here was the result: Hasekura-sama silent, thin-lipped, and occasionally having to be reminded of little things like where they were and what they were doing. Not that she was utterly useless, she just seemed to lose focus occasionally.

Noriko had briefly met this Yumi-san earlier in the afternoon, and she had seemed a likeable person, but Noriko hadn't spent enough time with her to be much help in tracing her, which meant that the success of their mission depended entirely upon Hasekura-sama, who would be searching these well-kept streets in the wealthiest quarter of Heian Kyo like a hawk a-hunting one moment, and pacing in one spot the next, absently biting a knuckle.

At last, Noriko decided that was about the limit. She stood in front of the distracted Dragon, hands on hips, glaring up at her, and waiting for her to notice.

Which she did, surprisingly fast. There were actual tears starting in Hasekura-sama's eyes as she said, "You... you remind me of Yoshino when you do that –"

"_Enough_, Hasekura-sama!" Noriko snapped.

"Enough what?..."

"Aren't you ashamed of all this dithering? This is a friend of yours we're looking for, isn't it? Aren't you concerned for her?"

"Of course I am," Hasekura-sama said tiredly. "Yumi-chan's a sweetheart. It's just that..."

"What happened with you and Yoshino-san?"

"Noriko-chan, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but...well, I'd rather not discuss that with you..."

"Really? Oh, _goody_. Well, I don't want to hurt _your_ feelings, but I don't want to discuss it at all, with anybody. Your problems with Yoshino-san are none of my business. But it seems you need to talk about it with someone, and I'm the only one here. Of course, you _could_ just get yourself under control and apply yourself to the task at hand. I much prefer that option."

Hasekura-sama turned away, looking resolutely at the ground. "You can be such a pest, Noriko-chan, honestly..."

"Or, alternately, I could nip over to the northwest quarter and tell Mizuno-sama that you're having some unmanageable personal problems, and she can send someone over you _would_ trust to help you with them."

That proud head turned slowly and Hasekura-sama was giving off an expressionless yet deadly glare which would have daunted a lesser Noriko. "Nijo-san, what are you trying to do, here?"

"Only get your mind onto something other than your cousin," Noriko answered cheerfully. "Is it working yet?"

Hasekura-sama managed to keep up the scary stare a few moments longer. Then she strolled over to a nearby bench, and sat on it. "No," she said. "But thank you for trying. Maybe you should go get Youko-sama after all –"

And Hasekura Rei-sama, better known as the General for her shining conduct at the Battle of Five Hills... began to _cry_.

Noriko stood glaring at her for a moment. Then she sighed, and went and sat beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders. Hasekura-sama collapsed the rest of the way. She buried her face in Noriko's shoulder, and soaked through four robes surprisingly quickly. She made very little noise about it. Noriko heard her sob once.

So, Noriko had to comfort her and build her back up. In fact, that made it quite easy, or at least known territory. Noriko was the sort of girl who could cope, and she had much experience performing this office, for many girls. She'd just never expected to have to perform it for the excellent Dragon sorceress and noted swordhand Hasekura Rei-sama. Well, you learned something new every day. "Don't cry, don't cry, Rei-sama. It's nothing that can't be fixed, is it?... Here, blow your nose. Are you ready to talk about it?..."

"Nothing to talk about," gasped Rei-sama. "She hates me and she's leaving me or I'll have to leave her so she can be happy and that's the end of it..."

"She doesn't hate you, and she's not leaving you, and I'd advise you not to break with her. That'll just make a bad situation worse." _She knows all this deep down,_ Noriko thought. _She just needs to get the grief and pain out of her, and then she can be reasonable about it. I hope..._ Noriko sent a fervent prayer to Kannon-sama.

"Really? You don't think she hates me?" Rei-sama asked, in a fragile way.

"Of course not, don't be silly –"

Rei-sama's face twisted in anger. "Well, what the HELL do you know?" And like that she was on her feet again, striding up and down before the bench.

"Rei-sama...please..."

"One night – one blessed, blessed spring night – we're together, clothed only in our room. We're sharing everything. _Everything_, do you understand? Our bodies and our souls. She's all the way in, in the center of me, where no one else has ever come. I no longer know where my body ends and hers begins, and it no longer matters. We are _one_. Do you hear? One body, and one spirit."

"If you say so." Noriko was tough, but she almost flinched back from Rei-sama's angry, wet, pale face and burning eyes.

"And it's happening the same for her, I'm all the way in the center of her, I _know_ I am. Or I thought I knew... And then, the next day, in front of everybody, she runs off with a brace of bloody boys, and does goodness only knows what with them where no one can see, a dark place, furtive, groping –"

"Should they have done that in front of everybody too?"

Rei-sama stopped her pacing and stared at Noriko. "What!"

"Should they have run off when there was no one to see, and done their groping in front of everybody?"

There was a pregnant pause.

Then Rei-sama said, "You're actually a pretty cold person, aren't you, Noriko-chan?"

"You should make up your mind which you want, is all I'm saying. Next you'll be demonically furious because they touched each other halfheartedly in front of two or three people."

"I'm not in a humor for these winsome jests just now. Do you have anything _helpful_ to say?"'

"Rei-sama, you are a romantic, and Yoshino-san is not."

"Wh-what?" Rei-sama seemed all off-balance once more.

"Not particularly helpful, but the best I can do right now."

Rei-sama sat back on the bench, very carefully. She was not looking at Noriko, for the moment. "Are you saying... she doesn't love me?"

Noriko rolled her eyes. "A _true_ romantic, to the end. If someone doesn't love the way _you_ love, then it isn't really love they're feeling. Rei-sama, for all your sternness in battle, and your practicality in Guild matters, you're a dreamer at heart, aren't you?... and Yoshino-san is not. You've read too many romances, and believed them, is what it amounts to. You believe that two people can dream the same dream. And they can, but because they're two different people, they're not going to dream it in the same way. Yoshino-san loves you. A person need only speak your name in her presence to know that. When you spend time with other girls, she becomes furious. When she spends time with other girls, or especially with boys, you sulk, and mope, and consume. Oh, you probably think of it as sorrowful ardor, suffering in decorous silence, or some such –"

"Yes!" Rei-sama said, surprised.

"But it's _moping_," Noriko finished firmly, with a hard look at Rei-sama. "Hard to say which is worse. When you mope, it's bad for you. When she's furious, it's bad for everybody else. You love each other, in different ways. So it's wrong of you to expect her to share your romanticism, just as it's wrong of her to expect you to share her all-embracing practicality. She understands your kind of love, but because she's never experienced it herself, she's impatient with it at times, thinks you're being over-dramatic, wasting her time with nonsense. But from that to saying she doesn't love you is as much to say – oh – for example, that because ocean-water isn't sweet like water from the Kamo, it isn't really water. It has to be water _your way_, or not at all. Do you see?"

Rei-sama was looking at Noriko with her mouth slightly open. "Noriko-chan... how do you know all this?"

"I don't. I'm just guessing."

"Noriko-chan!"

"No, I really am just guessing. It's an informed guess, from knowing the two of you, watching you. When two people love and argue with one another so publicly, it's hard not to come to some conclusion about them. But you can't ever really _know_ what happens inside another person – not without using magic, and that's cheating, isn't it?... You can make a pretty good guess based on her outrageous behavior, and that's about it."

Rei-sama continued to look at Noriko, almost in admiration. Then she said, "Why have I never asked you about this before, Noriko-chan?"

"Because I'm younger than you, and too cute to be really bright."

Rei-sama seemed taken aback. "Oh. Um. Right." She looked around them, taking a real interest in their surroundings for what seemed like the first time that afternoon. _This is promising,_ Noriko thought. "I want to talk to you more later, Noriko-chan. I think you're smarter than I am about things like this, and you might be able to help me. But we're wasting time at the moment... How did we get onto East Konoe Street?"

"I'm not sure of that myself, Rei-sama."

"When last seen, Yumi-chan was heading south from a point south and west of where we are now. This neighborhood isn't my best guess for her to flee to..." Rei-sama stood.

"How are we going to look for her?"

"I was hoping to avoid this..." Rei-sama sighed, and took a square of linen out of the pouch at her side. "Yumi-chan didn't own this long enough for it to be the most helpful object imaginable, but one makes do." She handed it to Noriko.

"But what are you going to –" Noriko gasped and turned away.

Rei-sama was undressing!...

Noriko stood there, staring firmly away, eastward down the street, her left hand over her mouth, her right hand clutching the linen to her breast, which was pounding. She felt herself going pink at the thought of Rei-sama gradually becoming naked behind her. Oh, she hoped this didn't get around. _If Yoshino-san hears about it, I might not live to see the Sun Gorge._ "Rei-sama, what are you _doing_ –"

"Sorry to be so abrupt." Rei-sama's voice was firm, if a bit strained with the chore of undressing. "But I've wasted too much precious time as it is. Thank you for bringing me to my senses, Noriko-chan. Now, we must cast _aside_ these trammels of civilization – these damned useless, pretty bits of nothing we use to conceal our true selves –"

Noriko squeaked.

"– and come face to face with our _animal nature_. We are animals, you know, Noriko-chan. Can you doubt it?"

"Rei-sama, _please!_" Noriko wailed. She was more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. She was beginning to cry.

"Time to shed, like a locust husk, this nothing woman, this Hasekura who is so easily wounded, so easily cast down, and EMBRACE THE BEAST!"

Noriko screamed and whirled, fists raised, ready to use the most terrible defensive spells she knew, no longer caring what she might see –

She saw a large golden dog, and a small pile of neatly folded clothing.

"What?" said the dog.

Noriko stared at it. "Rei-sama?" she said warily.

"Of course. Who else?"

"But you – I thought you were going to –"

"Going to _what_?" Rei-sama's, or the dog's, ears were perked, and she, it, was giving Noriko an annoyed, impatient look. With a dog's face. Somehow.

Noriko decided that it would be a bad idea to embark on the subject of what she had thought Rei-sama was going to do. So all was – reasonably – well, after all. Just as well, because now she thought about it, the most terrible defensive spells she knew weren't actually that terrible. "Um, never mind. I think I just got hysterical for a moment. Probably the heat."

"_What_ heat? It's early spring."

"I –"

"Noriko-chan, do we really have _more_ time to waste like this? Hold the linen out."

"What?" Noriko was having difficulty with all this, still. She was talking to a dog. The dog was Rei-sama. The dog was like a bristling, golden, grinning robe Rei-sama was wearing – or had she truly _become_ the dog? –

"The linen I _gave_ you. So I can _smell_ it. Unless _you_ want to do the tracing." Over-elaborate patience. From a _dog_... A beautiful, adorable golden dog...

Noriko held out the linen, and Rei-pochi sniffed it a moment. "There, there. Sorry if I was short with you, young 'un. Mmm, better than I thought." Rei-pochi wagged her tail. "Come on, then. Second Street. All along the southern edge of the Enclosure. We're bound to pick up her scent somewhere there! Keep the linen handy in case I need it again!"

"Yes, Rei-pochi," Noriko agreed dreamily.

"Didn't quite catch that," Rei-pochi said distractedly, trotting away.

"Yes, Rei-sama," Noriko corrected herself. She collected Rei-sama's clothing, which Rei-pochi seemed to have forgotten about, and ran to catch up. _Don't leave me behind, beautiful Rei-pochi!_

"Fine, fine. Ruf. An excellent day for hunting. Ah, I'll break that damned rabbit's _neck_ when I catch her!..."

"We're not after a rabbit, Rei-sama. We're after Yumi-san."

"Of course we are, of course we are. Didn't I say? Don't distract me, baby darling." Rei-sama nuzzled Noriko's hand briefly and kept on trotting.

"I'll... try not to, Rei-sama. Rei-sama, are you still upset about Yoshino-san?"

The dog looked perplexed. "What's a 'Yoshino-san'? Is it good eating?"

"Well, it's someone you love very much."

"Like a puppy?"

"A little... more like a... mate?"

"Oh, _mates_? That's all human nonsense. Find 'em and forget 'em, that's my motto."

"Yes... yes, I see," Noriko said, running faster to match the new pace Rei-sama was setting. Perhaps dogs had it simpler, after all. Beautiful, beautiful golden dogs; short golden hair everywhere except where it grew long over her paws; wonderfully alert, expressive ears; a friendly, engaging dog grin... _baby darling..._ In a way, it was a pity she would have to change back later...

* * *

Shinji had been busy. Perhaps Toshi was more trustworthy than he looked, but in the end, Shinji had decided not to count on the little rat. He'd done a setup that didn't exclude a third party, but wasn't dependent on one either. It seemed the best way. It had been a lot of work, tearing away the planks of the porch and removing the support struts in key places, and making the _arrangement_ just under it, an arrangement reminiscent of his poaching days, before Aniki had taken him on... no, mustn't cry now...

Anyway. Beneath the porch, the Mouth waited.

And Shinji waited, in the dark front room of their dwelling. He was sure it would be today. He gripped his weapon, but had the sense to wipe it occasionally, so that his own sweat wouldn't make him lose his grip. He was in a strange place, a come-to-a-point, squeezed-up-tight place. Chances were excellent he'd be dead within five minutes after the sorceress turned up. (_Unless the sorceress is in a mood to draw things out,_ he thought, and then tried to sponge the thought away, as the phrase "draw things out" gave rise to unfortunate mental images. Shinji was cursed with a rather visual imagination.) There were a great many things about life he was no longer thinking about, or looking at, because they had ceased to be important. All that was left was revenge for his aniki, his dying aniki. Ichiki-sama had sunk very low today, and Shinji was quite sure he wouldn't last until midnight.

He had warned all their neighbors away. The intelligence that a sorceress was coming to see him had been very effective in emptying out the neighborhood, though it had been difficult to have all those final conversations with those he'd counted friends as well as neighbors, his and Ichiki-sama's fellows: thieves, grifters, unsuccessful publicans, rejects. "Are you _mad_, Shinji?" "If a sorceress is really coming, then why are you _staying?_" "Flee with us, while there's time!" He'd thanked them all for their concern, but had told them, "My course is set, and I can see the end of my path. I owe it to my aniki to face his killer." Old Keiko the Witch had called him "a blithering young idiot." Well, perhaps he was, but he was a blithering young idiot with a mission. He owed it to his poor dying aniki to stick it to his killer just as hard as he could, before she impaled him with a tongue of flame and burst him so that his guts spilled out. She would probably eat his guts as well, or at least pickle them for later use in her wicked craft. The defilement of it was past bearing, but Shinji would just have to bear it somehow. He wiped a tear away irritably. He would be dead, after all. Perhaps he would be unaware of –

"Shinji? Oi! Fair Shinji? Step forth, my lovely. The sun is setting, and the evening star sings in the glorious deep blue."

She was here! She was talkative. Shinji would give her some talking. Oh indeed he would. She was just a few feet from where he crouched in shadow just inside the door, by the sound, still in the dust of the street. He just needed her to –

"– step forward."

_– a little. Just step forward a little –_

"– onto the porch."

_– just step forward a little onto the porch, that's all you need to... do..._

"Shinji, my devious young architect, I've no wish to be rude at all, but your porch is rigged, and I ain't stepping on it."

"You read my _mind!_" It just burst out of him. He couldn't help it. "It isn't _fair!_"

"Shinji. I can _see_ there's something wrong with the porch. She lists to starboard, and the planks in front of the door have clearly been ripped up and hastily reinstalled in the very recent past. I didn't read _your_ mind, I just used my own. What did you put under it, Shinji? Spikes? Or possibly it's something that's supposed to grab my legs so I can't dodge when you hit me with whatever it is you're holding, a simple slip-knot arrangement perhaps, pulled tight by my weight –"

"You're reading my mind _again!_" Shinji howled. He clutched his hair with his free hand.

"Now, if I were reading your mind, like it was a bloody scroll, don't you think I'd be able to see what was in your hand?"

Shinji squinched his eyes tight shut at that. This was like being hit over and over. And he didn't want to pull his hair any more; his scalp hurt. "Then how did you _know_ I had something in my hand?"

"Well, the odds of your attacking me barehanded aren't good. You'd have something, even if it was just a stick. I bet you've got something better, though, resourceful young limb of Satan that you are. What has he got, Shimako?"

Shinji was upside down suddenly, and his head smacked against the floor. He screamed, and lost his grip on the weapon. Then he felt as if he was a kite being flown in a typhoon. Then he was in a tumbled heap in a corner.

A new voice, another woman, in the room with him, said, "He has a sword, Sei. It's a bit rusty, and the balance isn't good. It has a large, obviously fake ruby set in its pommel."

And now, the bitch queen murderess's voice, also in the room all a-sudden. "You disappoint me, Shinji. An ordinary sword?"

Shinji struggled out of the tangle of his own limbs – up to a standing position – if he had to die, he was going to die on his feet – "How did you get in here without stepping on the boards? You _cheated!_"

He had half expected monsters, inhuman creatures with six breasts each and leading vengeful ghosts on leashes. Instead there were two women, one in a rather plain white robe and hakama, and the other, taller one in some outlandish skin-tight gear, black legs and padded golden breast, with a sort of black half-cloak, and a mop of yellow hair, obviously a foreigner, but not supernatural. They were both looking at him in wonder.

Shinji ran at the taller one. He knew this was the end, and he probably wouldn't make it across half the distance between them, but this was how he would die, he would die _fighting_, he owed it to –

The typhoon effect was repeated.

But he ended up face down on the floor with a hand on his back between his shoulderblades, and a bumped nose, instead of on a spike with his own wet guts landing on his face, as he had expected.

"Shinji," said the voice of the taller sorceress, "you are relentlessly hostile. Perhaps I have earned it, but I'd like to talk to you calmly and quietly, as one professional to another. Will you stand up in a peaceable fashion, instead of flying at me like a deranged grasshopper, and can we try to have some kind of adult relationship?"

...Shinji had no idea what was going on. His hopes for this encounter were all destroyed, but so were his _fears_.

On an experimental basis, he said, "All right."

The hand was removed from his back, and he was being helped up.

He stood there, rubbing his nose and the back of his head, and looking at his guests. The taller one still had that smile, which he was beginning to think might be friendly rather than sardonic. The smaller one merely had a sweet, relaxed expression. She had a calming effect on him; he suddenly felt certain that nothing too terrible could happen to him with this one around; she had a face that wouldn't allow anyone to be unjustly murdered and boiled, with his own innards, in a bag. "I, er, apologize for my violent behavior, which surprisingly turns out to be unwarranted," he said, bowing.

"Don't _worry_ about it, Shinji," said the taller one. "You're upset, naturally. Your aniki is wounded. Is he dying? Toshi seemed to think so."

"I don't think he'll make it through the night," Shinji said. And then he did begin to cry. He couldn't stop himself. All the desperate stratagems of planning and revenge he had put between himself and the death were gone now –

He turned away from the women and sat on the floor. This was shameful. He couldn't speak; he couldn't trust his voice.

He heard the inner door slide a little.

"This is him in here? On the pallet, sleeping?" the taller voice asked him.

He turned his head just enough so they could see him nod. He wanted to apologise and he couldn't even do that right now.

"Hmmm. Not my _forte_, really," the taller voice said, somewhat muted. "Shimako, I believe you're pretty skilled?"

"Reasonably, for ox-level," the smaller voice answered. "My Mistress is a close friend of the best healer in the Guild, after all. I think I could _comprehend_ such a wound – such a degeneration in the tissues, such a depletion of the humours – but I don't know if I have the power to reverse it all."

"Then we will collaborate. Abide a little, Shinji."

What was this?

Shinji stood. He turned and went to the inner door.

The two women were kneeling on the floor, to either side of Ichiki-sama. Their hands rested gently on his belly, his chest, his forehead. The younger one's eyes were closed. Shinji couldn't see the older one's face, her back was to him.

Shinji waited in the doorway. There was a lump in his throat. He was telling himself firmly, over and over, not to hope.

The younger woman spoke:

The hollow tree holds  
A letter from a loved one.  
Moonlit paper glows.  
Warm sad thoughts. When the hole is  
Closed, leave the letter inside.

Ichiki-sama's hand twitched.

Shinji found that he had bitten his knuckles hard enough to make them bleed. Stifling a curse, he rushed back into the front room to dress it.

When he came back in, Ichiki-sama's eyes were open. He was talking to the sorceresses with some hoarseness, but intelligibly. "That was my death blow. I was sure of it."

"I was the one who dealt it to you," the older sorceress answered, "so it was only right I help with the healing."

"_Am_ I healed?"

"You should rest for a few days," the younger sorceress said very seriously. "It was a near thing. Healing is best applied to a wound as soon as possible after the wound happens. It was late for you, almost too late. You should be all right, though, as long as you don't go right back into your routine."

"Right now, I feel about strong enough to eat some rice lees and fall asleep..." Ichiki-sama looked up at Shinji, who was standing over them now, holding a bowl of rice lees and a dipper of water. "Just the thing," Ichiki-sama went on. "This foolish and incompetent young man is my student. He has not much in the way of charm, grace, or talent, but he is devoted enough, and understands his duty. I hope he has not disgraced himself in any way?"

"Not at all," the older sorceress answered him. "We had a misunderstanding at first, but cleared it up quickly enough. He _is_ very devoted, and I think he's more talented than you give him credit for."

"He had better be," Ichiki-sama growled. "Are you going to feed me that lees, boy, or watch it dry?"

The older sorceress rose, and Shinji knelt in her place. The younger sorceress raised Ichiki-sama's head in her lap. Shinji fed and watered his aniki. There were tears in Shinji's eyes, but he hardly knew it. Inside he felt quite calm, and content. The world was the right shape again.

After Ichiki-sama fell asleep, Shinji served the sorceresses the last of his sake in the front room. They honored him with their names, and he told them a little of his history, and Ichiki-sama's.

"I am only a simple thief," he said. "But you have laid a great obligation upon me, and if there is any service I might do you, you need only name it."

"I wounded Ichiki-san in the first place," Satou-san said. "Only right I should help heal him. But there is a favor you can do me, Shinji-san."

"Anything –"

"Tsujimoto no Fujito."

Shinji looked down. "Perhaps I was over-hasty... Toshi-san said you were looking for that one. I think Ichiki-sama wouldn't like me to. Mind, if it were only me, I'd tell you anything you wanted to know. I have no use for the high-and-mighty bastard. But..."

"You and Ichiki-san were in some sort of partnership with him? That much seems obvious, from the way we met you fellows."

"Yes. Still _are_ in a partnership..."

"Not unless you mean to join him in exile," Sei said. "Tsujimoto no Fujito is done, like dinner. He was captured in the Imperial Enclosure a little while ago."

"What! Really?"

"Truly. Actually, I don't know what they mean to do with him. I think the punishment for breaking banishment is death –" Satou-san looked at Todo-san, who inclined her head once – "but I don't know what sort of favors the pipsqueak can call in. He has at least one friend that I know of, who has the ear of the Emperor. But at the very least, I'd guess he's going back into exile."

Shinji was most pleased by this intelligence. He hoped that Tsuji-chan was in serious trouble.

"But he's not so much the one I'm interested in," Satou-san went on. "It's the girl, the beggar-girl. The one he sent up into our rooms in the Mountain Lily Inn."

The girl? How was she of any importance?... "Yes?..."

"How did he happen to find her?"

* * *

The young sorceresses had been in chaos, when Sachiko had found them in the Banqueting Pine Grove. Shrieking, excitement. A few were still in tears, though not many. There were some loud ones saying Satou-san ought to be disciplined, and some quieter ones looking miserable and tugging at the sleeves of the loud ones. No one could talk for long without being interrupted, but the main subject of discourse seemed to be what punishment would be appropriate for such an outrage. Oe Hikaru-san was saying that banishment to the frozen north was the only way to go.

Sachiko had held up her hands and spoken to them for a few moments, telling them it was time to return to the dormitories. She had touched briefly on the need for the Guild to maintain proper decorum in public places, but did not stress the point.

The girls and young women trooped quietly after her in the streets.

A few citizens bowed as they passed, but the custom was falling into disuse. "A sign of the coming collapse, when old ways are so flouted," Suga-sama would cry. "Even if you could force people to reverence you," Fujiwara-dono would answer, "would it be a kind of reverence worth having?"

Sachiko didn't know which of them was right. She suspected both of them were.

After she'd turned the junior sorceresses over to the Matron of the Day, her progress back to the Mountain Lily Inn was slow. She kept looking into every corner, every shadow, for anything Yumi-shaped, however small. She was examining beggars and street people much more closely than was her wont.

_Where are you, Yumi?_

_Come home. Please come home –_

She was looking off into an alleyway, and she almost bumped into the flower girl.

"Flowers, your ladyship, only a few –"

Sachiko looked, and saw the face of the flower girl she'd met the day before yesterday, and given the rough side of her tongue, almost in this exact spot.

The flower-girl's eyes widened as she recognised the scary lady from the day before yesterday. She froze in terror.

The terror would probably have broken in another moment, and been followed by a mad dash for safety. But the scary lady got down on her haunches and said, in a non-scary way, "Let me see your flowers."

Timidly, the flower girl extended one bunch. They weren't very _good_ flowers, as she would have admitted if pressed. This early in the spring, the pickings weren't good, and these were wilting after a day of being held and shown and all. Nobody had bought anything, and she had begun to think of eating the flowers.

The scary lady said, "Oh, these are nice. How much?"

The flower girl thought she might get hit at any moment. The flowers clearly _weren't_ nice. It would take a fool to think they were, and the scary lady did not smell like any kind of a fool. "J-just one copper, my lady –" The lady would surely think even one copper was overcharging for a few wilting wildflowers –

"I have no coin on me," the lady said. "But what do you think of these?"

The lady was holding out two rice-cakes. They were wrapped in leaves, which the lady had pulled back a bit. The cakes smelled of honey and sesame. The girl's mouth watered, and she gulped. She couldn't remember ever being offered that much food at once. "My lady?..."

"I had meant these for my dinner," the lady said, "but I can get something else at my inn. Go on and take them."

The girl had frozen in disbelief this time. Now there was a screaming in her head, _take them, fool!_, and she took them. Grabbed them, in fact, _snatched_ them out of the lady's hands. The lady looked startled.

"S-sorry," the girl said. "I'm sorry, ladyship. Here's your flowers." She thrust the flowers out. It was only later that she thought about how rude she had been, to this kind, if mad, lady, and cringed.

The lady took the flowers very gently. "Thank you," she said. She even smelled them, and smiled. It was a very small, not very convincing smile. But it was a smile.

The girl was torn. She wanted to just stand there looking at this lady, and she wanted to run away. She thought maybe she ought to stay until she was dismissed, and that decided her.

"You yelled at me, the other day," she said, more or less at random, and then wondered if she should have mentioned it.

The lady looked at her, a calm, unreadable look. "I know. I'm sorry about that. I was angry at something someone had just told me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. What's your name?"

"Kikuko," the girl said. She'd given her real name without thinking about it. Usually she told anyone who asked that she was Endo the Mad, the Emperor Godaigo, something ridiculous. But it seemed dangerous to speak an untruth to this lady.

"Kikuko-chan, I am Sachiko. A pleasure."

Kikuko bowed.

"Do you eat to your fill every day, Kikuko-chan?"

"Y – no," Kikuko said uncomfortably.

"There isn't a family that could take you on, as a servant, a helper?..."

Kikuko pressed her lips together. She could take care of herself. She didn't need anybody. She was tough. Anyway, there was nobody to trust.

"How old are you, Kikuko-chan?"

"I could be eight... or nine..." Kikuko felt embarrassed. She didn't actually know. Neither of her parents was around to be asked.

The lady moved away from the subject. "I suppose that's old enough. Still, it is good to have people around you. I mean, if you get sick –"

"Don't need anybody!" Kikuko said too loudly. Then she ducked her head, abashed. She wasn't used to people taking an interest.

"I see," she heard the lady say. She sounded sad. "I see." She was quiet for a moment. Then, "Kikuko-chan, I have a friend who lives in the streets as you do. Her name is Yumi. She's older than you, but not quite as old as I; she is just reaching womanhood. She has brown hair. She's slender. Big brown eyes... almost as big as yours. When last seen, she was wearing a simple white tunic. She blushes easily, and if she's startled she makes strange sounds of distress like a baby dragon caught in a trap. She is..."

Kikuko, wondering what the sudden silence was about, looked up and saw, to her surprise, that there were tears in Lady Sachiko's eyes. "Your ladyship..."

Her ladyship looked away and looked back, and the tears were gone. Kikuko wondered if she'd imagined them. "I love her very much," her ladyship went on. Her voice was a little unsteady. "She was only with me for about a day, but... she is my joy. I suppose a mistress shouldn't love her famula, as Fujiwara-dono suggests, it's bad form, but I do love her and I want her to come home. I don't want to be a bore, but..."

Kikuko didn't know what to say.

"I don't suppose you've seen her anywhere, Kikuko-chan? Or a girl who could be her?" The forlorn hopefulness in those blue eyes...

"No, your ladyship," Kikuko said. Oh how she wished she could say yes. "I would tell you right away, if I did," she added impulsively.

"Thank you, Kikuko-chan." Lady Sachiko smiled again, and this time it was much more convincing. "If you do see her, could you bring word to me? I'm at the Mountain Lily Inn. Do you know where that is?"

"Between Ii-dono's palace, and the burnt grubbly bits over yonder," said Kikuko. "Past the wobbly thing. Yes, ladyship, I know it."

Lady Sachiko hesitated, still smiling, and then said, in a more businesslike tone, "Even if you don't see her – stop by sometimes anyway. I'm on the second floor, southwest corner, if you just want to climb up."

"I don't –" Kikuko growled and looked away.

"You'd rather take care of yourself. I understand that. Look, think of me as a fallback. If your usual ways of getting food aren't working, then stop by. I should be able to find you something... No?... Well, the offer stays open."

Kikuko felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. The lady Sachiko was standing. "I have to go now, Kikuko-chan," she said. "Thank you for talking to me."

Kikuko remembered her obligation – the smell of it was filling her whole head and making her a bit dizzy. "Thank you for the rice cakes, your ladyship. I hope you find your friend, your ladyship." _Thank you for talking to me, your ladyship. Thank you for..._

"I hope so too, Kikuko. I wish you good luck for the rest of your day."

Kikuko watched her ladyship go. Down the street. She thought it was just her ladyship's dignity that made her go so slow – her ladyship was a young woman after all – but then she noticed that her ladyship was constantly glancing away, in this direction or that. At the mouth of Hell's Ditch, she stopped and looked away west along that stretch of sheds, shacks, skins stretched over sticks, her eyes sad and searching.

_No one has ever looked for me that way, and no one ever will,_ Kikuko thought. The thought made her feel wild and happy, and then it made her feel like crying.

Making sure her bundle of leaves, and their precious contents, were securely tied under her arm, she trotted down to the place where Lady Sachiko had stood, went into Hell's Ditch, and began to make for her secret fort. She chose an unconcerned, half-walking, half-skipping gait, in case she was spotted by anyone she knew. She was taking the rest of the day off. These rice-cakes, one meal to her ladyship, were four meals to Kikuko. Though probably one of the cakes would end up being money instead of food. There was something she wanted to try...

Sachiko arrived at the Inn. She went to the kitchen, calmly. She calmly requested a simple meal from the innkeeper's daughter, Miyo. Miyo-san seemed to sense that something was wrong; her eyes kept searching Sachiko's face. Sachiko ignored this as politely as possible. She appreciated Miyo-san's concern, but she didn't want to talk just now.

She climbed the ladder to the suite.

There was no one there.

She stood looking at the empty room for a moment. She hadn't expected, but she _had_ hoped...

She got on with the rest of her day:

She found a nice vase to put the wilting, scrawny wildflowers in. _These aren't worth half of one of those rice cakes, and you are a fool,_ she seemed to hear her mother's voice saying. Well, perhaps. Perhaps. Her high-born parents seemed to want nothing from her but her obedience. If she wanted to ignore them as much as possible, and hold an uneducated beggar, two serving-girls, and a grinning unreliable hedge-wizard to her heart all the rest of her days, who knew what anything was worth? Not Sachiko. She had learned more in the last few years of her life than in all the years that had come before them, and she was now, at last, prepared to admit that she knew next to nothing after all. She put her head down on the kotatsu. Her hands clasped at the vase.

She wept.

People of her class generally approved of weeping; it was how you demonstrated that you were capable of fine and poetic feeling. To Sachiko, it had always seemed like one more contrivance, as well as a waste of energy – energy that might more sensibly be used to alleviate the very cause of the tears, to your own benefit, and perhaps the benefit of others. But she had not known she was going to weep before she started, it was like a storm that had taken her unawares, and it was the first time she had done anything spontaneously, so far as she remembered, since childhood, and so she decided to let it run its course. Through her misery, she laughed a little weak laughter at her careful self-analysis 'mid such a spontaneous act, but the misery quickly took over again.

In time, her sobs were tearing at her, robbing her of breath, and then, with no volition of which she was aware, she screamed:

"YUMI!..."

After that, the sobs faded, the tears slowed.

She looked up at the vase she still was clutching and saw, to her mild surprise, that the flowers were standing straight, seemed bigger than before, and were blooming furiously, almost viciously.

_Hm. I didn't tell them to do that._

Oh, well. There would be some nice flowers to welcome Yumi and the others home, when they came.

And Yumi _would_ come home.

Outside, it began to rain.


	8. The Wind That Shakes The Barley, part 1

Joyous Yuletide, all. Here is _the first half_ of Chapter VII, which I am posting on Christmas Eve morning. The second half of chapter VII still needs a little work, but I am hopeful that I can post it later on Christmas Eve, or on Christmas Day at the latest. A present to all of you, especially Artistia, who asked nicely. And I was hoping to post this earlier this month, but, well, a bunch of _things_ came up. They have a way of doing that, those damned _things_.

More about what the hell is going on at the end of the second half.

Glossary: _Eiga_: splendor; pomp and circumstance; the need to put on an impressive show when an important festival rolls around. (The Christmas decorations in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania are an excellent example; if your town is called Bethlehem, then your Christmas decorations had _better_ be good. And theirs are.) _Tanka_: a five-line poem, the first and third lines consisting of five syllables each, the second, fourth and fifth consisting of seven syllables each. Many of the poems the sorceresses have been using to direct their energies are _tanka, _though of course I've been doing them in English, and I gather the effect is very different. _Bo, ho, cho_: measures of distance, relevant only in the City – one bo is the length of a city block, roughly 1/3 of a mile; one ho is 1/2 of a bo, and one cho is 1/2 of a ho. Easy-peasy.

* * *

VII. The Wind That Shakes The Barley

The sun was low in the sky. Above, and in the east, a canopy of clouds had obscured everything, so that the sinking sun shone in from under a vast, impenetrable grey roof. The Western Market was filled with sly faces and nervous faces, as well as the occasional blank, unconcerned face. Shadows were long and deep between stalls and buildings.

Yumi set about to hide herself as best she could. She found a place between two storehouses where storage had overflowed and many goods were stacked in tiers or lying in heaps, with bits of cloth or leaves sticking out between the close ribs of rattan baskets. She slunk in the long shadows to avoid notice, and found a little cubby hole among the cases, tucked away out of sight. She folded herself up and hid her face in her knees.

Alone again.

It was worse this time, because the memories of her former friends, the friends she'd turned away from, tormented her. They'd all been so kind to her. Especially one.

She didn't know how she was going to live without Sachiko-sama.

That was silly, she knew it was. She wiped her eyes on the elbow-length sleeve of her tunic, which was already grimy, both with her many tears and with the dust of the city. She'd lived a whole life without even knowing who Sachiko-sama was until the day before yesterday. Still, she felt as if she'd torn half of herself off, leaving this new version of herself to just limp around the world, confused, and bleeding, and in pain.

But what else could she do?

She thought about Tsujimoto no Fujito. As much as she hated and feared him, she had to admit that it was thanks to him she'd been with Sachiko-sama even just for a couple of days, two days in springtime. She'd met Sachiko-sama on her own, granted, but had been too terrified by her to say anything. And she'd hurt herself on that stone running away from her, too...

_Her foot had kept on throbbing after that. She'd spent the rest of the day limping from place to place along Red Bird Avenue and between the Eastern and Western Markets. She'd had no luck finding anyone who'd give her a little food and, after she became desperate, no luck stealing any either. The City was even more cold-hearted today than usual._

_Finally, along about mid-evening, in the Western Market, she'd seen an opening, and_ almost _succeeded in pinching a strip of fried meat from a vendor. She was weary and dizzy from hunger, and one moment she'd had her fingers on the meat, certain that his back was turned, and the next she'd been running for her life as he chased her with a cudgel, screaming unintelligibly – mostly unintelligibly – even fleeing in terror she could pick out the occasional word, such as "filth," "rat-farts," and "dog's breakfast," but she couldn't string them together into any kind of coherent sentence. Though she suspected she was going to be a "dog's breakfast" herself. He'd finally cornered her between two stalls. He'd got so overexcited it seemed he'd burst a vessel in his nose, and blood was running down into his sparse mustache and beard. His eyes had fairly glowed, he'd reared back with the cudgel screaming, and Yumi had darted out between his legs, with a speed and oiliness born of terror, and nudged his right leg enough as she went so that he lost his balance as he tried to turn and follow her, and she was just aware of him falling among some empty cases, shrieking curses._

_She'd sped nimbly away, hoping to avoid other pursuers. But at the bottom of the block, in a little alleyway, leaning against a post and panting, it seemed that there was no pursuit – and also that she had well-nigh exhausted herself. She would not have the energy for another such encounter tonight._

_...but the longer she went without food, the less energy she would have for such encounters on any succeeding day. Sleep could only do so much –_

_"Good evening."_

_Three men were coming toward her, down the alley._

_She felt like crying as she stood. She was tired. All she wanted was a little food, and a little sleep. Her chances of outrunning these men in her current state were not good. Well, crying wouldn't help anything either. She crouched there by the pillar, looking for an opening. There was only darkness further up the alley, and she couldn't be sure of an escape route that way. Her best way out was past these men... _

_"I saw that_ remarkable _performance," said the tallest of the three men. He wore a headband and white robes. "I was most impressed. I should very much like to commission you to undertake a task of some danger and importance."_

_Yumi blinked. It wasn't as if the words were completely unfamiliar, but no one talked to her like that these days, and her brain was rusty._

_"Moment, Tsuji-sama," said one of the other men. He stepped forward. "Hallo, sweetheart. I'm Ichiki. Ichiki the Twister, as I'm known among those in the know. Maybe you've heard of me?"_

_Yumi_ had _heard whispers, here and there about the Market, of a notorious thief who went by that name. She nodded._

_"Good! And I'm a little surprised I haven't heard of you, yet. I have never seen anyone move that fast, and I have seen some fast movers in my day, I am here to tell you. I'm reckoned pretty fast myself, in some quarters, and... Well, never mind. From your taking such a risk over a piece of food, I guess you're hungry, eh?"_

_Yumi nodded vehemently._

_"As I thought. Well, Tsuji-sama here is of a mind to feed you. Only thing is, you've got to work for your food."_

_Yumi braced herself to flee. When men said "work for your food," they usually meant only one thing. This thing had never happened to her, but she had seen it happen to someone else once, and it wasn't happening to her if she could help it. She really thought she would rather die. Or... could these be demons? Thinking it over, they didn't look the sort of men who'd want her to "work for her food" in that wet, bloody, disagreeable way – they weren't wealthy, but they looked comfortable enough to be able to afford a cleaner, better-dressed kind of woman._ If _they were men. Demons, now... the ones who would just sneak up on you and go for your liver were bad enough, but there were others who looked for some kind of subtle bargain. If they were offering her a little food in exchange for her letting them eat a little of her at a time – like she was a lot of pickled fruit in their larder – well. She was awfully hungry. Were there any parts of her body that she didn't particularly need?..._

_The Twister-san was laughing. "Girl, I wish I was a painter so's I could take all the different expressions that cross your face when you're thinking. Thinking_ horrible _things, it looks like. How can you have that much gruesomeness to think on when I haven't even told you the offer yet?... Oi, Tsuji-sama, are you sure you wouldn't rather keep her as a pet? Hours of entertainment!..."_

_"Quite sure," said Tsuji-sama._

_"Barrel o'laughs," Yumi could have sworn she heard Ichiki-san mutter as he turned back toward her. "Long story short, and so your face can relax more, we want to send you on an expedition. There's this young lady, lives at an inn not far from here. She is in possession of an item we'd like to have in our possession. Now, me and Shinji, we're skilled thieves. But this is a pretty particular expedition, and, well, the smaller and faster you are, the better your chances. You're small, and we've seen you're fast, as well as lucky. So we'd like to engage you for this easy, pleasant little job, and we will buy you a meal in exchange. Sound good?"_

_Yumi had tried stealing once today, and it hadn't helped anything. She wasn't good at stealing, as this Tsuji-sama seemed to think. She was good at running away, but that was different. And she was tired and hungry, enough so that she very much doubted that, if the scene of the market just now were repeated, she would be able to escape as before. But she was also tired and hungry enough to be desperate._

_"Yes, I'll take the job, Masters, only... Can I have... a_ little _food now?" she asked._

_Ichiki-san looked at Tsuji-sama._

_"Oh, no no no," said Tsuji-sama wisely. "I think not. No paying without work. I think that's sensible, don't you , Ich?"_

_"S'pose it is," Ichiki-san said._

_The third man had said nothing and no-one had spoken to him. He appeared to be irritable and uninterested in anything much. He was the youngest of the three by a good bit, neither plain nor handsome. Yumi quickly saw that it was a matter of disinterest to him, whether she got fed or not. But he did occasionally stare at her suspiciously._

_He gave her a bad moment once, later in the evening, when the lady's lights had gone out, but they were still waiting, for good measure. She'd been curling her toes in the dirt and sand of the alleyway by the porch, across the street from the Mountain Lily Inn. She was testing the muscles, the_ _remembering_ _muscles – a reflex, when she was bored – and she found that the young one was staring at her in horror. She stopped it at once, and did her best to pretend that there was nothing happening. The moment had passed._

_The wait had been long, for the lady to go to bed so that she could do the theft. During, she did not become_ less _weary and hungry, and she felt her chances of success diminish as her force did. She had thought this would happen, had thought of trying to explain that to these men, but Tsuji-sama had a cold, unapproachable look in spite of his constant smile. Waiting there under the eaves of the empty house she'd had a bad feeling about this business, but even if the lady woke up, well, all she had to do was run..._

They had not mentioned that the lady was a sorceress. So possibility of failure and flight had become certainty of death, in that moment when dark, bloody light had filled the room and the sorceress had boomed at her, in the voice of a demon. And Yumi knew demons' voices, yes she did.

And then, Sachiko-sama had beheld her, in that light – and Yumi's whole life had changed, right then.

What had Sachiko-sama seen in her face? Yumi still didn't know. The furious, terrifying look on Sachiko-sama's face had melted, softened into gentle amazement in the change of her burning hand from red to blue.

Another moment of fear, when Rei-sama had threatened her. But Sachiko-sama had protected her.

From then on, Yumi, tired and hungry and worried as she was, had been in a unique state of mind, best summed up in the phrase, _what you will_. Sachiko-sama had had mercy on her and protected her, and Sachiko-sama was the most wonderful living creature Yumi had ever seen. _What you will. I will do whatever you say, as long as I may stay here with you._

She hadn't expected it to be for long. Beyond the need to be with Sachiko-sama had been the growing conviction that she was all wrong for Sachiko-sama, and would only hold her back, drag her down. Sachiko-sama had to see this, sooner or later... probably had seen it by now. When Satou-sama told Sachiko-sama that Yumi had allowed herself to be ensorcelled, and then had been so ungrateful as to run away... Even if Yumi did go back to Sachiko-sama, she most likely wouldn't be welcome. And it was just as well –

Something slithered, in a nearby alleyway. Something big. The clever, oily sound went right to the marrow of Yumi's bones. _Not them again... please... not now..._

She was on her feet. This was an awfully familiar situation. She had been running for much of the afternoon, she hadn't had a proper meal since morning (shaved ice with liana syrup, while indeed elegant and delicious, is curiously unfilling), and she was tired. But it seemed that she was never to be allowed any rest, any peace, for the rest of her existence, which was likely to be extremely brief –

"Yumi?" A low, gentle voice, like educated woodsmoke. A voice Yumi would know again anywhere, if even a thousand years had passed. Sachiko-sama's voice.

She nearly fell for it. In spite of the slither she'd heard only a moment ago, the voice was so artfully imitated that she had actually taken three running steps toward the alley mouth before her mind overruled her body and stopped its desperate hurling itself toward comfort, warmth, love, and sudden destruction. She almost overbalanced but managed to steady herself, her bare toes clutching at dust.

"Yumiii..."

The thing came out of the alley.

It knew it wasn't fooling anyone. It kept Sachiko-sama's form, but improvised on it as Yumi watched: the hair waving about it in windblown tendrils in spite of the still air; the eyes sunken and smoldering – mostly blind, she knew, it relied on its ears and especially on its nose – and the fingernails long, yellow, and caked with dirt. Its slow, measured, stiff, jerky steps were a crude jeering parody of Sachiko-sama's stately walk.

"Yumi," it crooned sweetly, twisting Yumi's heart around its voice, "come to me. I miss you, Yumi." Still Sachiko-sama's voice, but with a low growl in it, like a stalking cat.

Yumi backed away from the thing. She was weeping, but furious, and shaking her head. "Don't you dare – use Sachiko-sama that way – you are not worthy – wearing her, like a gown – she could tie you in knots, if she was here –"

"Oh, indeed?" the filthy thing purred happily. "I would like to see that... Take me to her."

Yumi tried to back further – and felt constrained. A line, connecting her to the false goddess before her – a leash?

A black thread. It shone with a terrible energy.

"You will take me to her," the beast cried, almost singing with joy in a baritone and an alto at the same time.

"No!" Yumi screamed. "No –"

It laughed, so that a long dog's tongue lolled horribly out of Sachiko-sama's mouth. Then it was holding a whip.

"Lead on," it said, and flicked the whip at Yumi's face –

– and, with a speed and strength born of desperation, and of her terrible fury over the insult of the tongue, Yumi caught the whip, and yanked on it as hard as she could.

The Demon stumbled.

The constraint was gone.

And Yumi _ran_.

She was running west, it occurred to her, as she heard the gobbling rage of the thing pursuing her. The setting sun was straight ahead. She collected her thoughts as much as she could, with her death pursuing her, and the last sunset of her life staring her in the face. It began to rain, which did not help her concentration, and almost pushed her to the edge of despair, but she kept running. Maybe she could use the rain to her advantage somehow. But as soon as she could, she had to turn south. Then, at the City wall, east. She had to get out of the City. She was sure she had a better chance of escape and concealment outside the City, though all her chances were fading to nothing. But she had to get as far away from the Mountain Lily Inn as she could –

Her feet remembered, and left the ground –

_The City was gone. The night was filled with shrieking shapes, some with banners stretched behind, all with songs that tried to pluck her head from off its sure perch, stabbing shrieks of fire between stars. Something yanked on her neck and she gasped for breath –_

When her feet touched again, it was in the dust of Ninth Street, one bo to the south of where she had been. Just a few steps from the southern wall of the City.

Immediately, she turned eastward.

Her arm was stinging. From when she'd caught the whip, she realized. It might be bleeding, but she had no time to look. She heard the Demon howl with rage, away in the north. She seemed to have stretched the black thread that bound her to the thing. But unless she could break it somehow, the Demon would be able to find her. And as long as she was heading east and it was heading south, it would catch her soon. It would catch her soon wherever she went. She sobbed, and then controlled herself. If she wept now it would interfere with the measured breathing she needed to run. She had been a blind fool, and she had to get it away from Sachiko-sama. _One last game, then,_ a voice said._ A game to see whether there will be more games, and a life to have them in._

* * *

In the main audience chamber of the Pure and Fresh Palace, a tall oil-lamp flared at either hand of the seated Emperor and the standing Fujiwara no Yukinaga. Before them, abased on the floor, was the disgraced and recusant Tsujimoto no Fujito. He was waiting to find out what ghastly thing they were going to do to him. There were two Imperial guards posted at the door, both in "silent death stance" mode with their rattan armor and flat conical hats, and their purple sashes. They were there to quell any local insurgency, should one insurge. The Emperor was thinking. Fujiwara no Yukinaga was there to help the Emperor to think. The Emperor wished his Uncle wouldn't try to be so helpful all the time.

"Of course, you _do_ know the penalty for breaking your banishment," said Fujiwara no Yukinaga to the man on the floor. "It is death. So, in good sooth, there is really very little for us to talk about."

"I beg of you!" said a new voice.

Kashiwagi no Suguru came forward and prostrated himself next to Tsujimoto no Fujito. "I beg of you, your Imperial Majesty, do not kill him!..."

"Prince Suguru, you are treading on thin ice yourself," said Fujiwara no Yukinaga. "You knew he was in the Capital, and you chose not to notify the Imperial Guard? And how _long_ have you known?"

"There is no defense I can make," Prince Suguru agreed, then hurried on, "Most wise and merciful Imperial Majesty, he was my aniki. Do you have an aniki, your Majesty?"

Fujiwara no Yukinaga gave a short, harsh laugh. "The Emperor has no need of such things."

The Emperor said nothing.

"I beg of you, imagine it, your Majesty," Suguru went on. "An older brother. One who gave you guidance and help when you most needed it. A friend and a counselor, the dearest, most important friend you ever had. To turn him in would be to cut out your own heart –"

"Turning your head would be one thing," said Fujiwara no Yukinaga. "You did more. You _colluded_ with him. What I want to hear now is the full story of your collusion: what he was up to, what exactly you were helping him to do –"

"I hardly think that's necessary," mumbled the Emperor.

There was silence like a frozen lake at midwinter. Out of the corner of one eye, the Emperor saw that Prince Suguru had risked an upward glance but couldn't tell what he was looking at, and it was important that he not break eye contact with Uncle Lord Chancellor Fujiwara. This same Uncle glared in incomprehension at the young sovereign, who did his best to be nonchalant in spite of those eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" said the Lord Chancellor.

"I feel no real need to, er, inquire into this matter further, Lord Chancellor," said the Emperor, in a slightly stronger voice. "Whatever it was they were up to, they have been foiled. And I cannot help but notice that Prince Suguru seems strangely relieved about that. Though I don't have an aniki, I do understand the concept. From Prince Suguru's behavior, I suspect that Tsujimoto no Fujito laid an obligation upon him, used his position to force cooperation from him. That is yet another thing I should feel compelled to punish Tsujimoto no Fujito for. But Prince Suguru begs forgiveness for his aniki, and makes no cause of how his aniki ill-used him – and I am minded to grant forgiveness."

"Your Majesty – you may be unwilling to pass a sentence of... but really, you cannot just –"

"Perhaps not, but I'm doing it anyway," the Emperor said coldly. He stood, in a swirl of robes, and when the Lord Chancellor opened his mouth again, the Emperor slashed a hand at the air between them... and the Lord Chancellor's mouth closed. In a very tight line.

"Tsujimoto no Fujito," the Emperor said, addressing that wretch in a final-judgment tone of voice, "you will go back into exile. If you break it again, the punishment will indeed be death. Prince Suguru's intervention is all that has saved you this time. It will not save you a second time. Heed this well." The Emperor turned again to his chancellor. "Have him placed under house arrest for tonight. Tomorrow a party must be got up to escort him back to Kyushu. Make sure they are careful of the Directions –"

"You forget who I am," said Fujiwara no Yukinaga darkly.

There was another one of those silences, but this one seemed to have flame licking at its edges.

The Emperor steeled himself. He was defying the man who had essentially ruled him since he was five years old. He tried to speak with the quiet confidence he had often heard in Prince Suguru's voice. "I have not forgot, my Lord Chancellor, who you are. I have remembered who _I_ am: Rokutoru, Emperor of Nihon by right of descent from Amaterasu. Does your power derive from mine, Lord Chancellor, or mine from yours?"

Fujiwara no Yukinaga simply looked at the Emperor. He had gone strangely calm. "You put it in the form of a question, your most exalted Imperial Majesty? Well, perhaps you shall receive an answer quite soon. I am sure I shall study to please you in all ways. In the meantime, you may rely upon me to look to his Lordship's travel arrangements, and we shall be most careful of the Directions. The last thing we want is for his Lordship to run into any unmanageable amount of ill fortune."

"Well... well, that's _splendid_, my Lord Chancellor," the Emperor said, feeling much relieved. "I felt sure I could count on you."

"I will leave you with these stout guardsmen, and go and fetch some more to escort Tsujimoto-san to his quarters," said Fujiwara no Yukigana with great unctuousness, and slid out of the room.

The Emperor puffed out a breath. "You may both rise," he added.

They did. Prince Suguru looked solemn. Tsujimoto no Fujito looked furious.

"All, all to do again!" Tsujimoto burst out, exasperated. "A whole year of living rough, depending on the dregs of the City for my support, a life empty of even the most basic comforts, trying to dig my way back into my rightful place with my fingernails, and at the last minute... I could _strangle_ you, Suguru!"

The Emperor's mouth dropped open.

Prince Suguru said nothing. He was looking at the doorway the Lord Chancellor had disappeared through. He seemed pensive.

"Well?" Tsujimoto no Fujito snapped. "What have you to say for yourself?"

"My failure is terrible," said Prince Suguru absently. "The weight of it shall hang on my heart forever."

"Tsujimoto-san!" The Emperor was outraged. "How can you speak to Prince Suguru so? When I told you his intervention had saved your life, was I not clear enough?"

Truthfully, the Emperor was put out for more than his spoken reasons. He had certainly not stood up to his frightening Uncle Lord Chancellor for the first time in his life just for the sake of doing this Tsujimoto animal a favor. And he wondered why the particular person he had been hoping to impress was just standing quietly, staring at the door.

"Prince Suguru –" he began.

Suguru turned his gaze to the Emperor then, and the Emperor fell silent. People seldom looked directly at him – bad manners with an ordinary person, possible social suicide with an Emperor – but Suguru was different.

"Your Majesty," Suguru said, "I am grateful to you for your verdict. I am all unworthy. I only pray you have truly struck your opponent and not hit yourself by mistake."

This was balm and bitterness rolled into one. "It _is_ time I began to take the reins," the Emperor said. "I was discussing the subject with Koko-sensei only the other day."

"What are you so miserable about, Suguru?" said Tsujimoto no Fujito disgustedly, slapping the back of Prince Suguru's head lightly – a liberty which nearly caused the top of the Emperor's head to come off. "I'm the one who's got to go walkabout all the way back to bloody Kyushu."

"Aniki," Suguru said, with enormous patience, "I will be clean astonied if you make it as far as Kyushu. Just now, in fact, the chances of your living to see the sun rise are something indeterminate."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

The Emperor didn't know what Prince Suguru meant either, but was pleased to see that Tsujimoto had lost a large measure of his overbearing self-esteem.

Prince Suguru was looking at Tsujimoto no Fujito with a disenchantment the Emperor found chilling. "What I mean is that Lord Chancellor Fujiwara may have gone to fetch your escort, or your executioners, depending."

"Depending on what, young know-all?" Tsujimoto blustered.

"Depending on whether he plans to reassert his dominion right away, or to postpone it a while for reasons of high policy." Prince Suguru's voice sounded as if it had run out of patience.

The Emperor was afraid to speak, and afraid not to. "But, Prince Suguru, Uncle wouldn't dare –"

"Oh, he would dare much, your Majesty," Suguru said earnestly, though without anger. His umbrage seemed to be reserved for his aniki, but still the Emperor had never heard him sound so serious. "The Fujiwaras are a thing apart, and the Lord Chancellor is a thing apart even from most of his kin. If he does not overturn your decision, it will certainly not be because he _dares not_."

The Emperor didn't know what to say. He'd always sensed that Uncle was a dangerous person, but that danger had never personally stared him in the face before...

"You know him as well as I or better, Great Emperor of All The Lands."

"But I am Emperor, as you say..."

"But you are young, my Emperor, and only just come to man's estate. He has grown old in power. I have some small reputation in craft and matters politic, as your Majesty knows, but I should not care to take on Fujiwara no Yukinaga –"

"What should I do?" The strength the Emperor had felt flowing through him had all trickled out, and he stood cold and afraid, though fortunately not alone –

"Stay calm. And guard yourself for truth. I may be overreacting, but Fujiwara no Yukinaga is not used to being crossed. If his retribution does not come tonight I am sure it will be soon –"

"What are you doing to me? Why couldn't you have been more diplomatic? – You _fool_, Suguru!" Tsujimoto-san seemed to have recovered some of his phlegm, though he was obviously upset; there were definite cracks in his self-assurance.

Prince Suguru turned upon Tsujimoto-san then. He was angry, angrier than the Emperor had ever seen him. "Fool? I _was_ a fool, yes, Aniki. I was a fool to cooperate with you. I was a fool to trust you when you said you had a good plan. There is nothing left in you worth trusting. Ill-decision seems to be a mortal malady with you, and a contagion as well. Now for your sake, I have committed the serious crime of aiding and abetting a known fugitive; I have assisted in your molestation, caused the flight, the loss – I hope no worse! – of a young woman who never did me any harm that I know of, and in so doing, have greatly widened and deepened – perhaps permanently – the rift between me and my cousin Sachiko. Fujiwara no Yukinaga is angry with me, my cousin is angry with me, and what my uncle Ogasawara is going to say about all this, on his return from the Middle Kingdom, I can only guess. And, in the face of all this, I have further leaned over the precipice that lies before me, by _begging for your life_."

"What are you saying, Suguru?..." Tsujimoto-san seemed poleaxed.

"I'm saying that, after this catastrophe, you will have to shift for yourself, Aniki. I have incurred enough trouble on your behalf, and with nothing to show for it but still more trouble."

"You think you can just cast me aside, as if I were nothing –"

Prince Suguru brought his hands together, _clap_, very loudly. Tsujimoto-san fell silent, apparently bewildered by Prince Suguru's behavior.

"I have stood in this chamber with you," Prince Suguru went on, "waiting for the return of the Lord Chancellor, which may mean both our deaths. And have you, my aniki, my older brother, my teacher, my friend, any real understanding of the situation? No. You curse everyone and everything but your own wilful foolhardiness, which alone is responsible for your position. And you have ignored the Emperor... the _Emperor_... on the two occasions he has spoken to you. The same Emperor who has just defied Fujiwara no Yukinaga for your sake.

"The conclusion I am irresistibly driven to, Aniki, is that I am talking to a man who is too stupid to live.

"Can you make an objective assessment of your recent actions, and offer me any _rational_ contradiction of my conclusion? Bluster and footless counter-accusations don't count."

Tsujimoto no Fujito was silent. He seemed to have turned in on himself. He was pale, and trembling slightly. Beads of sweat on his forehead glistered in the torchlight.

Three more guardsmen came in, these in "search-and-seizure" mode. They surrounded Tsujimoto no Fujito, two of them taking his arms, and took him out of the room. As he went out he started and stopped a great many sentences – most of them did not sound promising – and cast many a pleading look at Prince Suguru, who stood like a stone.

The Lord Chancellor came in as they went out. "Well, well," he said. "I apologise for my outburst a few minutes ago, your Majesty. Your mercifulness was praiseworthy; I could only wish you possessed of a rock-hard practicality in addition to't. Prince Suguru, you get off clean this time, you lucky young rogue, because his Majesty is merciful." He chuckled. "But be more careful in future, eh?"

"You are quite right, my Lord Chancellor," Prince Suguru said agreeably. "My error was a necessary one, but I do recognise it as an error. Had His Imperial Majesty decided against me, I would have no grounds for complaint. And, if this sets your mind at rest, I consider any obligation I had to my aniki quite discharged, and I cannot think, offhand, of anyone else on whose behalf I would be so foolish and improvident as to defy the laws of the land."

Fujiwara no Yukinaga laughed heartily – a social laugh, but it sounded genuine enough. "I will hold you to that, Prince Suguru."

They parted, with many protestations of good will.

The Emperor, for his part, walked back to his personal residence. His uncle had seemed much pleasanter after returning from fetching Tsujimoto-san's escort. Ordinarily, he would have assumed that all was smoothed over, and Uncle had decided to be forgiving. But Prince Suguru's words stayed in his head. Prince Suguru was a most sagacious man – he most often spoke in a light, casual voice, the voice of a man who might at any moment float away like a dandelion-clock, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground. Rokutoru had often gone to him for advice, because he'd begun to be suspicious, and perhaps fearful, of Uncle's advice. Prince Suguru, because of his family background, and his position as Assistant Chief of the Bureau of Commerce, had in his head a good deal of information about the workings of the Government.

"Most of it, I've had to glean where and how I could," he had sighed, during their first conversation on the subject two years earlier. "In fact, the Director, Koyei-sama, regards the job as a sinecure, and spends most of his time socializing and making trips to Mt. Hiei, so that I am, de facto, Acting Chief, and the day-to-day business of running the Bureau is in my hands. But I had not been there one month before I found that, even with a tolerably complete picture in my head of its workings, who was doing what, and so on, there was a great deal of business being done about which I had cause to know from overhearing conversations among my father, my uncle Ogasawara, and Fujiwara no Ryuusuke, and which was not being so much as _monitored_ by anyone at the Bureau."

"Really?" Rokutoru hated to remember himself as he'd been then. Such a child. Clumsy. Uncouth.

But Prince Suguru had, then and always, paid him the great compliment of taking him seriously. "Truly, Your Imperial Majesty. In fact, most of our time is spent on ceremony. Oh, and parties. We drink quite a bit of wine, at the Bureau. And exchange poems. Some of the fellows have a remarkable grasp of the _tanka_, and also of various Chinese forms of –"

"But... the business?"

"Precisely, your majesty. We do some real work, in fact. I would say that perhaps a tenth part of all the business I know about through my outside connections does pass under my hands at the Bureau. But no more. If we are not monitoring and promulgating commerce, who is? There's quite a bit of money being made, as I have good cause to know. And mine certainly isn't the only wealthy family in the Capital. The _eiga_ seems to spiral us towards divinity at times, but in fact it is earthly, and must be paid for. Rice tithes from family estates account for much of it. But not all."

"Can you not get this under control, Prince Suguru?"

"I don't know. Yet." Prince Suguru had smiled then. "You may be sure, your Imperial Majesty, that I will tell you as soon as I do know."

Sighing and shaking his head a little as he entered his chambers from the garden door, the Emperor was accosted by three of his four ladies-in-waiting, and by his dog. There was much earnest entreaty and barking going on, and his mind had difficulty switching gears. "Hold on, hold on!" he cried. "Give a fellow a chance to catch his breath!"

"But, your Majesty!" Kaoru said, shrieking to make herself heard over the others, "Naga can stand on his head!"

"What? You're _joking_!" The Emperor knelt to face his dog. "They're _joking_, aren't they, Naga?"

"Ruf!" said Naga, wagging his tail in his enthusiastic way that made his whole back end jump around.

"Not a joke," said old Shikibu, his fourth lady-in-waiting, from her cushion in the far corner. "They've been making him do it, over and over, for about an hour altogether." She sipped at a cup she was holding. "And right entertaining it's been, too."

The three girls grabbed him anew, Taka at his left arm, Mika at his right, and Kaoru at the front of his robes. "You'll _see_!" Kaoru squealed. "My word upon it!"

"You'll be amazed, your Majesty!" said Taka.

"The Greatest Wonder of the World!" said Mika.

As it turned out, Naga could about _halfway_ stand on his head, the head and the forepaws being well-braced, but for the rest of him, no balance; he could never stay upright for very long before his hind legs were kicking for purchase in thin air, and then the whole of him was flopping down. This part of the exercise was the cause of much merriment. But Naga garnered much praise nevertheless, for, as Mika pointed out, though he did not stand on his head very _well_, no one could recall hearing of any dog standing on his head _at all_, and it was therefore the most astonishing feat, deserving the widest possible fame.

Shikibu coughed a bit, and spat into her empty cup.

* * *

"_Very_ interesting," Satou-san said. She was smiling in a way that made Shinji a bit uncomfortable.

"I thought it uncanny at the time," Shinji said. "It seems to mean something to you, though. May I ask?..."

"Oh, it just fits so well with my own observations," Satou-san said happily. "I'm not used to being right so many times in one day... Grains of sand dancing around her _feet_? And you didn't run screaming like a banshee?"

_Banshee?_ Shinji shook his head. "Well, I might have done, but the light wasn't good, and I grabbed for Aniki's shoulder, but he'd wandered to the other end of the porch, and when I looked again, I didn't see anything. I suppose I preferred to think I'd been imagining it, but looking back, I don't think I was. You think – you think the girl's not human, then?"

"Oh, Yumi's human," Satou-san averred. "Yes, she is. Very intensely human, our Yumi. But she's very intensely something else as well."

"What, then?" Todo-san wondered.

"I don't exactly know, although I suspect," Satou-san said. "But this is only an indication, and there's a lot we don't know yet, and I don't want to jump to any conclusions – unless the conclusion I'm standing on is on fire, in course. But there _is_ one I might consult."

She stood, suddenly, and went outside.

Shinji was shocked, but only for a moment. He already knew that Satou-san was unconventional.

"She doesn't mean to be rude," Todo-san said quickly. "Sei – I mean, Mistress – isn't from around here –"

"I guessed," Shinji said, trying to reassure her. He did not want Todo-san to ever be the least bit uneasy on his behalf; just the idea of it seemed like impertinence on _his_ part.

"Her ways are not ours." She stood. "I'm going to follow her. I beg your pardon, and both Mistress and I are grateful to you for wine and good talk –"

"But – may I not come –" Shinji was upset.

"Follow into the street, if you like, Shinji-san," Todo-san said, puzzled. "It is _your_ street. But it would be wisest not to follow further. I don't know just what Mistress is thinking about, but I have the feeling it's dangerous..."

Shinji rose too. They went to the door.

Satou-san was sitting there, in the dust of the street. She seemed to be staring at the house across the way, but as they came around her left side, it became obvious that she wasn't actually looking at it, or at anything visible to either of them.

"Is she –" Shinji began.

Todo-san raised a hand, and Shinji fell instantly quiet.

Time passed. It was hard to say how much. The west was blazing with the sun's farewell. The street, still deserted until Shinji got around to sending his neighbours the all-clear, was an unnatural oasis of quiet in the distant noise of the eternal City. It began to rain, but the sun was still visible. Shinji looked hopefully for a rainbow, and couldn't see one, but the effect of the setting sun burning behind sheets of rain was striking.

The sorceresses seemed not to notice the rain. Satou-san didn't move, and he thought of offering Todo-san his old oilcloth, but she was just looking at Satou-san, her hands clasped at her waist, not moving. Waiting.

Then, from under the porch of the house Satou-san wasn't really staring at, a cat stepped out.

And it became clear that the cat was what Satou-san was staring at, and had been staring at all along, even when the cat hadn't been there.

The cat was a grey tabby with a slight limp in its right hind leg, and a pleasantly jaunty step in spite of that. The corner of its right ear was missing. It strolled right up to Satou-san, making a casually inquisitive chirping noise – _prrrt?_

Satou-san took her hand out of her cloak, and held it out to the cat. Shinji couldn't see what was in her hand, but whatever it was, it seemed to please the cat, who buried its face in the hand.

Then the cat crawled into Satou-san's lap.

A little more time passed. The east darkened, the west deepened towards red.

The cat leapt out of Satou-san's lap, twirled, crouched a bit in the dust, and was gone. It seemed, from where Shinji stood, to have gone behind Satou-san, and not come out again.

Satou-san stood abruptly. She turned to them. She had an intent, serious look, which surprised Shinji.

"Shimako, do you feel up to a transformation?"

"Yes."

"I need you to fly. Fly, and find Youko. Fly, and find Rei. Fly, and find Eriko. We all need to bear south. Yumi is on Ninth Street, not far from the Rasho Mon, and she is in terrible danger. A demon. All of our powers. Do you hear? Fast, Shimako. Fast!"

Todo-san nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushing, and it struck Shinji that she was even more beautiful than he'd thought. Then she dissolved suddenly and sickeningly into white feathers and nothingness... and a series of low, mournful cries fading up the street.

"Must dash, Shinji-san," Satou-san smiled, patting Shinji's shoulder. "Have to see a demon about a girl." And she too had departed, in a swirl of flapping black leather and more than a suggestion of raven's feathers in disarray.

Shinji stood in the dust, alone. Cats. Demons. Feathers. Madness. They were not evil, as he'd heard, but they reckoned with forces beyond his ken. Two giants had passed by, in pursuit of a fugitive volcano, and had healed his aniki in passing, as an afterthought.

He shook his head. It was beyond him, and would remain so. He started to run west, splashing through puddles as he went, relishing the wind on his face. It had been a dry and dusty few days, tending his aniki. He would go to the leatherworker at the end of the street and pass the word that it was safe for his neighbors to come home. _Then I've got to get home myself, and quickly, in case Ichiki-sama wakes up hungry..._

* * *

Yumi wept as she passed the entrance gate to the temple baths. She had been so happy, leaving there with Sachiko-sama only the other morning. They had walked along this very street – on the very part she was running along now, fleeing her death. She forced the tears back. She couldn't cry. _You can't run and cry at the same time. If you cry, you die..._

She longed to turn south. But the City wall was in the way. She could get over it, but resisting the local flow of energy was not the path to survival, and as she remembered the southern wall, there were houses, and farms, and too good a chance she'd bring destruction on others –

The enraged howls of the Demon behind her became suddenly louder. Without looking back, she knew that it had come around the corner of Sai Avenue and onto Ninth Street, behind her. And, as she had passed the corner of Nishiomiya only a few moments ago, she knew it had cut her lead considerably. She longed to remember, again, with her feet, sail straight to the Rasho Mon, but it was costly in energy, and who knew how much further there was to go?...

The quality, the direction of the sound _changed_, all at once, and was coming closer much, much too quickly.

She looked behind her as she ran. Ninth Street stretched away behind her towards the burning dying sun, which as she turned was eclipsed, as if by a small rogue planet moving up from the earth. Yumi was caught in the long demon-shadow preceding its owner up the street. Shadow grounded, Demon airborne, and flying toward her much faster than she could run.

In her terror she had covered most of the block, but now she stopped. _When something is coming toward you that fast, running is a waste of energy. A last-moment dash for cover might be efficacious, but if you're running straight away from it in a line, and it's chasing faster than you're running, you present no challenge at all..._

...Someone had taught her that, once. There was even a voice to go with the words, a cracked, kindly, sometimes wandering voice. But the voice had no name...

Yumi stood there, weeping, trembling, in completely unfeigned despair, the Rasho Mon at her back, about a cho's distance off, the howling triumphant Demon sailing low over the street toward her front. It had dropped its borrowed Sachiko-sama shape and was now itself – or at least, Yumi couldn't imagine anyone _wanting_ to look this way. Long legs, elbowed like a chicken's, with webbed, scaly feet more like a big lizard's feet; big claws and long, thin, floppy toes. Body shaped like a pear stem-end down, with massive shoulders. Arms half as long as the legs, but still much too long, and with even worse claws at the end of them. A horrible, horrible head almost as wide as its shoulders, big face, wide nose, almond-shaped yellow eyes. A few whiskers on its chin, looking shockingly human in all that mess. Wings, great wide wings opened from its back. Horrible dark pink feathers like serrated blades.

Her death, Sachiko-sama's death, coming closer, almost here...

And, at the last possible moment, as the wide fanged mouth gaped and the great claws stretched for her, her feet _remembered_, and spun her up and away from earth and air...

_Too friendly, all of them. Ghosts who lived in this night-time world were pleading with her to stay. Some of them, the ghosts of old gods who had had their day and faded, were especially importunate. One kept saying,_ live in my garden, live in my garden_, wrapping its arms all around her gently, lovingly – she tore free –_

She was back, in the air, in the rain, and thudding down, limbs splayed out, in the fresh, glorious mud of Ninth Street. She was breathing deeply, harshly, swallowing rainwater clumsily. She started; she was still in danger – what was that crashing? Didn't sound like thunder –

She looked behind her. The Rasho Mon, already in a ruinous state, had taken a direct hit from the speeding, overshooting Demon, and had collapsed on top of it. What timbers remained unbroken now creaked and cracked, split, burst like bombs as something struggled within the great heaving dark heap. Chips and splinters fell in a whizzing, stinging, uneven rain along with Heaven's blessing.

But from the sound of the infuriated shrieks and curses coming from under the broken, dull red roof, the Demon was not badly injured, was even angrier than before, and would soon be free.

Yumi's tears mingled with the rain. She was exhausted. Could her feet remember again today? She wasn't sure she had the energy; another like that last might kill her. But she might be forced to try it. She could no longer escape through the Rasho Mon. The city wall was ill-kept in parts, but –

Nothing else for it. She turned and ran north, up Red Bird Avenue. The great willows, beaten by the wind and the rain, moved almost like animals, tumbling about on their trunks. She could see people running; the ones who hadn't already been driven indoors by the rain seemed to have seen what had hit the Rasho Mon and were now scrambling desperately for cover.

She was doomed, she realized. Well, she'd _been_ doomed. But she couldn't hide in or between buildings, for that would endanger others. And running down the middle of the great central avenue of the City, she presented too easy a target. And she was tired. The best she could manage was a shambling lope. Terror, despair, frustration. _If I could only have a little nap – just half an hour –_

There was a triumphant roar behind her, and a crashing noise which was doubtless the roof of the Rasho Mon falling away, giving up the struggle at last.

_It'll catch me in about a minute._

There was nothing else for it. Her feet remembered, and left the ground –

* * *

Lord Oe, Bureau-Chief of the Board of Divination, was riding his ox-cart home in the fading light and, as it turned out, the sudden rain. _Typical bloody weather_, he thought, mostly safe under his canopy apart from the occasional random splattering and a small leak directly over his headdress, which he had removed, letting his hair get wet, rather than risk spoiling the lacquer. His lady wife was in the compartment at the back of the carriage, safe from prying eyes, and endeavouring to compose a poem to express the wonder of all that her eyes had beheld this day in the Dairi. Otherwise he might shout out at her, as it was like him, "Typical bloody weather, eh? I suppose we should be thankful it isn't a typhoon or a wildfire. D'you want a quince?" But she was already miffed at him, who knew why, she probably didn't know herself, seemed like ever since their wedding night she'd been miffed at him for something. It was probably something to do with one of his mistresses, or their daughter. Except that they didn't have a daughter, and they would, by Heaven, continue to not have a daughter until the damned girl came to her senses and not before. The very idea of it, joining the... How was he supposed to get her married to some deserving young fellow, specifically Yamada-kun, if she was going to go and do a thing like that?

Talking of the bloody – thingummy – there was one of them right now. Unnatural, a girl in boys' robes and hakama, and no headdress to complete the picture either, just with her hair tied up. Curling everywhere like little dripping wet tornadoes. But the _main_ thing about this – whatsit – was, that she was blocking his way. His driver, without having been asked, was slowing the oxen down, from their standard, ambling, slightly-faster-than-melting-snow canter to a trembling, almost-not-moving-at-all-but-still-fast-enough-to-trip-over-their-own-feet-if-they-weren't-careful walk. Oxen are not particularly careful animals.

"Damn it all, young... thing, what do you mean by it?" Oe-dono roared. If the slip of a girl was going to dress like a man, then, damn it, she could get yelled at like a man.

Disconcertingly, the young... trout... smiled at him. Sort of a cheeky, knowing smile.

"Good evening, my lord," she said, nodding to him. "What a nice ox-cart. Be so good as to hold it here just for a moment. There is a rather delicate experiment going on just now. Your ox-cart might be the weight that drags us all down to perdition."

Oe-dono drew himself up. The saucy young... shit. He would give her a piece of his –

He heard, through the rain, some distance off, a girl's voice. The voice said, "Good evening, my lord. What a nice palanquin. Be so good as to hold it here for just a moment. There is a rather delicate experiment going on just now. Your lovely palanquin might bollocks up the whole works beyond repair."

There were a number of things that disturbed him about this. The cadences of this speech he was overhearing through the rain, at a distance, were so exactly like those in the speech this grinning freak had just given him. In fact... well, what with the rain and the distance he couldn't swear to't, of course, but it had even sounded as if...

When he heard, from a totally different direction, "Good evening, my lady. What a nice little cabriolet. I'm asking your driver to hold it here for just a moment –"

He glared at the grinning – SORCERESS – in front of him, and noticed something rather odd and unpleasant about her:

Her eyes were missing.

Obscenely, she batted her eyelashes at him, and smiled wider. "We've come from Hell to pick you up, Oe-chan."

An unnatural purple light filled Sai Avenue ahead. All the houses seemed to his suddenly overactive imagination to be made of bones.

Oe-dono screamed.

He urged his driver to turn the ox-cart around. He did this in a voice he himself did not recognize, and in a language he'd never heard before. The driver appeared to be squealing panicked curses in a completely different unknown language, but he _was_ turning the cart around, so that was something. The oxen, for their part, had as their total lexicon of terror a chorus of long drawn-out mooing moans, with a bit of a shriek in the upper registers, and they were moving faster than Oe-dono had ever seen them move, which was deeply satisfying on some level where he wasn't absolutely insane with terror.

But soon they were clattering down the street, away from terror – and away from home into the bargain, but let it pass, let it pass...

One full bo north, at the junction of Sai Avenue with Second Street, the real Touko opened her eyes and stood up from the bench she'd been sitting on, outside Sugawara-dono's mansion and grounds, which was more like a military compound than a house. The bench was a nice little hospitable touch completely out of keeping with the rest of the concept. Probably an innovation of the previous owner's.

That was a delicious magic Youko-sama had given her, the doppelgangers... Of course, Touko had improvised a bit...

The ghastly purple light in the street folded its whole length of perhaps two miles, folded it again, knotted itself furiously, intensified so that it could scarce be looked at, and became Touko's new mistress, standing some distance away.

Youko-sama immediately began walking toward Touko. She was one of those annoying people who seemed to like being rained on; her eyes were sparkling, and her hair, though dripping, was irritatingly resilient. "She doesn't show. Not so much as a bump the whole way. Nishiomiya Avenue next. Stops short of the Enclosure, so it's not so long. What was all the commotion?"

"Commotion, Mistress?" Touko said airily.

"Clacking and clattering and clanging. Carts and carriages all tearing away east –" Youko-sama stopped quite suddenly and gave Touko a stare.

"Mistress! Please don't stare so. You'd frighten anybody into fits. I won't be able to eat my dinner..." Touko trailed off. The stare wasn't becoming any friendlier.

"Just what have you been telling people?"

Touko was about to throw herself on Mistress's mercy – chancy; she didn't even know whether Mistress had any – when she was saved by a massive pair of white wings.

A giant white owl was perched on one of the lower branches of the great ginkgo to the left of Sugawara-dono's gate. That is, it was a giant white owl from its claws and the tips of its folded wings right up to its neck and then, without so much as a by-your-leave, it was Todo Shimako. Her golden hair spilled down over white feathers.

"How nice to see you, Shimako-chan!" Youko smiled.

"Thank you, Youko-sama," Shimako said sweetly but swiftly. "My Mistress has found Yumi-san. At the south end of the city, she says, near the Rasho Mon. Yumi-san is apparently being pursued by a demon."

"A _demon_? In Heian Kyo?"

"So my Mistress says," Shimako said. "She says that Yumi-san is going to need all of us to make rescue. All of our powers."

Touko bit her nails. She enjoyed playing the terrifying apparition to tease self-important noblemen, but the thought of facing a real demon in combat sobered her quickly enough. And so she was tremendously relieved when Youko-sama said, "Touko, take your fingers out of your mouth. Third floor, north end of the Guild offices, just as fast as you can hop. Fujiwara-dono must be informed of this outrage immediately. Tell her I'm on my way down there right now."

"At once, Mistress," Touko said, and she hopped.

Above and behind her as she sped away south, great wings beat back the coming night...

* * *

High over Heian Kyo, a cloud of ravens flew agitatedly. At its center, an improbable figure hung, a long lanky figure in outlandish clothes, soaked through and heavy, but hanging on to the birds somehow, fingers outstretched, not touching actual birds, but seeming to fly in their atmosphere, almost.

They didn't like flying in storms, as Sei well knew, and they didn't like being dragged suddenly from nesting in a warm spot. Sei understood and appreciated their reluctance to serve her selfish needs, and intended to let them go as soon as possible, only this was a rather impractical altitude at which to do so.

_Further south, further south, mates... It must shine forth ere long... Whopping great demon, don't see how we can miss it, even at this height –_

There was a horrible, horrible noise, a boom and a low crackle, like a building collapsing from a giant's fist hitting it. Sei, her heart in her mouth, scanned the prospect for unusual – _ah. It appears that a building has collapsed, well done. And not just any building!... Mother Mary..._

The Rasho Mon. It had been rebuilt numerous times over the centuries, and this latest version hadn't been in good shape for some years by all accounts, but from the look of it something had hit it hard – _closer –_

She was treated to the remarkable sight of the huge, ponderous wreckage of the Rasho Mon shifting and bouncing around as if an ill-tempered, extremely large cat were trapped under it. And she heard shrieks, horribly loud, as if from an unnaturally large throat.

"Located: one demon, fresh and ready for roasting," Sei growled, and urged the birds to angle down. They did so, protesting this treatment in no uncertain terms, _caw, yark, skreeeeek._ "Yes, yes," Sei muttered, "I know, you're unhappy. Look at it this way: your troubles will be ended in but a moment, and mine will just be beginning, ha ha ha – slow up a bit –"

She'd spotted Yumi. A nice trick at this distance, when people were still about the size of crickets, but Sei was pretty sure it was her. She was running away from the Rasho Mon, pelting north. She seemed to be leg-weary; Sei could see the shifting set of her shoulders and wagging of her head as she urged herself on –

There was a ghastly rending noise and a joyous rebel yell from that too-large throat, and Sei looked at the Rasho Mon.

The cracked roof and a few beams had fallen aside, revealing an unlikely horror standing up in the burning light from the west: a large and ungainly set of body parts taken from various giant animals and slapped together by some nitwit, ill-supplied Creator, in a forlorn stab at harmony, missing it by a mile, but hitting something else with a sickening splat. It was easily three times the height of a regular person – _more speed, my lovelies, all the pagan gods and Satou Sei cry to ye now_ – when standing erect, but at the moment it was hastily trying to clamber its way out of the wreckage – _how'd it hit the thing in the first place? Did Yumi fake it out somehow?_ – and looking around for its prey. Sei looked back to where Yumi had been, reoriented to where Yumi had managed to run to in the time, somewhat over a cho –

Just in time to see Yumi rise from the ground a short distance, and disappear.

"Ha-HAH!" Sei crowed. "As I thought! Nice one, my little Clevertoes –"

The demon let out a furious howl that echoed off the clouds – its immense black brows drew down horribly over its nose – and started north after Yumi Fleet-foot, trying to lumber up to full speed right away. It seemed to be able to follow her, somehow, even though she had disappeared.

_Speed – distance – trajectory –_

_I have always wanted to do this._

_The curse of it is, nobody's watching me._

With that sad thought, Sei let the birds go. And she plummetted through the rain, towards the demon, or hopefully where the demon would be – oh, the thing about falling was, you did it faster and faster as you went on, and it was dashed hard to change course –

_Calculations – SUCCESSFUL –_

She hit the demon right on top of its ugly head.

It went down in the muddy street with a tremendous slapping noise, chin-first. With a little concentration, Sei had managed to collect most of the force that would otherwise have broken both her legs and throw it down through her bootsoles instead, adding to the force of her blow. It still hurt, though. She rolled clear through the mud. She stung all over.

No sooner had she got to her feet than she was knocked back down. She instinctively rolled away from the direction of the blow, three times fast, and was up in a crouch. The demon had got up and was running north again. But Sei consoled herself with the delightfully nauseating sight of a big crack in the top of the demon's head, through which its purple brains could be seen to bubble gently, as well as ripple under the assault of the rain. And its left foot was coming down oddly, splaying inward.

Sei was on her feet and running after, to see if she'd slowed it enough so she could catch up to it. If not, why, she'd try something else...

* * *

Youko had chosen to fly, and the form of a falcon seemed to have chosen her rather than the other way around, not that she was fussing about these minor details right now. She went up, up, up, a terrible eagerness making her breast sing. She had a chance to prove herself to Fujiwara-dono, and she meant to make the most of it. She was also worried about Sei, who was probably already at the scene. Sei would be eager to challenge the thing rather than to prove herself – she seemed to have got past the point of wanting to prove herself to anybody years earlier, which both impressed and annoyed Youko – but she might do something reckless; she worried Youko often in combat, with her wildness... Once Youko was high enough, she cast out her eye into the winds. She had to see far... South, south... to the other end of the City...

She saw the demon – a nasty piece of patch-and-stitch, part chicken, part lizard, and entirely horrible – running away from the shattered ruin of the Rasho Mon. She looked around for Sei – nowhere visible. As a result of a rather grievous shared experience some years earlier, she maintained a tenuous mental bond with Sei – it could be strengthened with practice, but as it was it seemed to be about as strong as Sei was comfortable with. Youko didn't want to make Sei uneasy, and just having this much connection with her was nice. One of the nice things about it was that it made Sei easier to find in situations like this – she cast out her feelings, dredging the landscape for her unruly friend –

– in the air – there, above the demon – in a cloud of black birds –

And then Sei let go.

"SEEIII!" Youko was perhaps the first falcon ever to make this particular cry. She was very upset. She was flying as fast as she could, but of course there was no way she could possibly get there in time, Sei had just jumped, this was all a great distance away, however close it looked in her mind. All she could do was watch as Sei shot earthward through the rain, and hit the demon on the top of the head. Then she thought Sei was dead, until Sei rose from the mud. Then she thought Sei was dead again after the demon, seemingly accidentally, brushed her with one arm as it was getting up to continue its run northward. But then Sei got up again and ran after the demon.

Well, it seemed to be a pretty good gamble after all, but Sei was still going to get a talking-to later. She had just given Youko the worst moment of her recent life.

Youko flew on. She was going to have to change back to human form before she engaged the demon, but she would wait until she was almost on top of it before she did that...

* * *

Noriko had found a food-vendor, and had purchased fish balls for herself and a bowl of minced chicken for Rei-pochi, which she had set down in front of her. Rei-pochi had eaten enthusiastically. She'd become more monosyllabic as the hunt had gone on. Noriko wasn't sure if this was a side-effect of the transformation, or of the general discouragement that had attended upon their efforts.

For the hunt had _not_ been a success. Rei-pochi had sniffed all along the south wall of the Enclosure, and nothing. Had decided to check both the eastern and western walls in case Yumi-san had doubled back, and nothing. Ever-increasing circles had they described about that part of the Enclosure wall which corresponded to the area in which Yumi-san was last seen. And nothing. Rei-pochi had repeatedly referred to the piece of Yumi-san's linen which Noriko still held, but eventually said, "All I'm smelling now is my own nose," and gave that up. She hadn't said much after that.

They stood by the vendor on this busy stretch of Third Street, near the junction with Mibu Avenue. Rain began to fall. The vendor cursed merrily and hurried to pack up his goods. The people strolling by began to hurry by, putting their sleeves over their heads though there was still a tunnel through the clouds through which the setting sun boiled in the west behind the sheets of rain, creating a peculiar effect. The porch of the inn near where the vendor stood had good big eaves stretching out over the street a ways, so Noriko took shelter under those, finishing her meal there. Rei-pochi, who had swallowed hers almost at a gulp, followed Noriko, but didn't seem to care much that it was raining. She was sometimes under the eaves with Noriko, other times running about in the rain, even playing with another dog at one point. Rei-pochi seemed to have forgotten all about the hunt for Yumi-san, and seemed to be very much a dog, and Noriko adored the dog, but was beginning to worry.

She had pretty much resolved on taking Rei-pochi back to the Guild offices and seeing if someone could change her back to Rei-sama, when suddenly there was a dark shape moving in the rain above them.

There was a giant white owl perched on the eaves above Noriko's head. Her first instinct was to get out from under it fast before it crapped on her, but then she saw that it was looking at her with the face of Todo Shimako. Noriko felt a huge wave of relief – she wasn't alone with her problem any more. She looked up to Shimako-san – Shimako-san could cope, if anything, even better than Noriko.

"Shimako-san! Thank Heaven!"

"My sentiments exactly!" Shimako-san said. "I've been looking everywhere for you, Noriko-chan! I have to get along and find Eriko-sama fast, but where in the world is Rei-sama?"

Noriko pointed. Shimako-san looked and saw the frolicking dog, splashing through a puddle, chasing a sudden rat under a house, bumping her head on a support strut and falling back, dazed.

"Oh, my," Shimako-san breathed.

"I didn't know what to do," Noriko confided. "I was just going to take her along to the Guild –"

"No," Shimako-san said. "Or, ordinarily, yes, but there's no-one there right now. We have an emergency. There is a demon."

"Oh, no! I thought they couldn't come into the City!"

"Most of them can't. And the ones who can usually don't make trouble, because they know what Fujiwara-dono will do to them. This one seems to be chasing Yumi-san; we don't know why."

Shimako-san blurred then, white feathers and golden eyes in a shifting mass tumbled from the roof with an almost musical rustling sound, and she stood in her human form once again, in soaked white robes, her golden hair dark with rain, tumbling appealingly about her shoulders. She looked magnificent, but then she always did, Noriko thought.

Shimako-san went to Rei-pochi, and knelt next to her in the muddy street. She put an arm around Rei-pochi, who was still dizzy from hitting her head.

"Rei-sama, we need you," said Shimako-san.

The dog looked uncomfortable, or perhaps just preoccupied, and tried to pull away, making a "harf!" noise. Shimako-san held fast. "Rei-sama. We need you. Yumi-san is in great danger, to the south. There is a demon, Rei-sama."

That got the dog's attention. She swiveled her head fast to stare at Shimako-san, her ears flapping wetly.

"We all need you. Yoshino-san needs you most of all. Rei-sama, I cherish you." Shimako-san kissed the wet, doggy head. "I admire you so much. Noriko-chan does too."

Noriko knelt on the dog's other side, and also kissed her head. (She'd actually been wanting to do this since the transformation, but had been shy.) "Please come back to us, Rei-sama. Shimako-san is right. We need you."

The dog shook herself, spattering the two novices with doggy rain water. They laughed, and covered their faces with their hands. When they looked again, Rei-sama knelt between them, drenched, filthy, and quite naked.

They led her quickly over to the eaves of the house. Noriko produced Rei-sama's clothes, which she'd taken pretty good care of – they'd got a _bit_ wet, but that was hardly a consideration now. Rei-sama dressed. She couldn't seem to quite look at either of them – shame? – and she seemed still to be looking inward, at something that had gone wrong.

"You'll be all right?" Shimako-san said worriedly. "Only I really ought to go find Eriko-sama –"

"I'm fine," Rei-sama said, a little too loudly. Was she still barking a bit? "Really. Run along, Shimako. We'll get over onto Red Bird Avenue and head south, I think, Noriko-chan. Stay behind me, once we sight it. You're talented but you may not be up to demons yet." Rei-sama shuddered. "_I_ may not be, depending on the demon. We'll see."

"I really should – " Shimako-san started.

"Fastest," Rei-sama agreed. Then she stared. "Oh, the nine hells take it – Eriko-sama and Yoshino!"

"Yes –"

"They're in the southeast, damn it! What if they've fallen foul of the demon already?"

Shimako-san's concerned look was replaced with one of horror. She blurred again, to white, to gold, to air and water.

"_Fast_, Noriko-chan! Flaming hells – oh, I shouldn't transform again for a while, probably, but –" She was clutching at Noriko's arm and looking around wildly.

An Imperial messenger chose this moment to ride by. He was an excellent horseman, and the horse's maneuvers were executed most admirably. But the messenger's broad conical hat appeared to have a hole in it, and rain was trickling over his face. One eye was closed, and the other was doing a lot of bulging and rolling.

Rei-sama's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"Rei-sama, please..." Noriko said worriedly.

Rei-sama released Noriko's arm, and strode up to the horseman, waving her arms. "Need to borrow your horse," she said, without formality.

The messenger looked down at her with an incredulous one-eyed glare. Then he shook his head – dribble, dribble – and pressed on.

Rei-sama caught at his bridle. "There isn't time for this," she said. She was visibly struggling for calm, self-mastery. "The City is in danger. My friends are in danger. My Yoshino is in danger. I'll pay you if you need paying, but I need your horse _now_."

The man glared at her this time, took a truncheon from his belt, and swung it at Rei-sama's head, roaring, "Clear off, woman!"

Noriko closed her eyes, wincing. She heard a man's scream, a thump, the whinnying of a horse. When she opened them, the truncheon was bouncing slightly in the dust and the messenger was sprawling in a rubbish-heap in the mouth of a nearby alley. Rei-sama still had the horse by the bridle, now had a hand in its mane as well, and was up on tip-toe, whispering into its ear. Its eyes were rolling a bit, but its initial frenzy seemed to be dying down.

"Come on, Noriko-chan," said Rei-sama, mounting.

Noriko didn't care for horses overmuch, but... she walked timidly to its left flank. "What do I –"

"Your hand!"

Staring down from the saddle, seated easily, her hand out, Rei-sama had an air of command to her that brought out the obdurate in Noriko, but she supposed there was no more time for such things. She gave Rei-sama her hand –

– and was yanked up and spun around in the air so that she landed behind Rei-sama, on the butt of the saddle, which just had room for the two of them if they squeezed up.

"Arms around me!"

"Rei-sama –"

"No time! Arms around me!"

Noriko obeyed.

"Now we ride," Rei-sama breathed. The anticipation in her voice was unmistakable.

"Rei-sama, you have no _spurs_," Noriko objected.

Rei-sama chuckled. "You have _so_ much to learn, Noriko-chan," she said tolerantly. "Now hold on tight!" She leaned forward and whispered something in the horse's left ear.

The horse screamed, and bolted.

Noriko's screams echoed those of the horse, as she clasped herself desperately to this lunatic's back. The rain pelted her, the wind lashed at her. And somewhere, she heard Rei-sama yelling, "HYAH! HYAH!"

A swoop around a corner, long light willow branches slapped at their heads playfully, and they were out on Red Bird Avenue, pounding south in the rain.


	9. The Wind That Shakes The Barley, part 2

As promised. There'll be more from me at chapter's end. For right now, the tale's the thing.

* * *

Touko burst into the room, her chest heaving from her run. "Fujiwara-dono!"

"Yes?" said a gentle voice in her left ear.

"Aaaaagh!" Touko added, flinging herself away to her right. She stumbled, fell, drew herself up on her bottom, and edged away from whatever-it-was fast with her feet and left hand, and shielded herself with her right arm.

And she beheld Fujiwara-dono hanging head-down from the ceiling, looking at her patiently.

"A bit noisier than I'm used to visitors being, Matsudaira-kun," she said. "If you didn't want to see me, you need not have come, after all."

"Fujiwara-dono –" Touko had to hold herself back from expressing her true feelings at this point because they would probably have got her disciplinary action.

"Moreover, you've broken my concentration," Fujiwara-dono complained, pacing a bit. "There's something off."

"Off?..."

"Yes. Something, somewhere, is off, and I was trying to work out what it could be. Something whiffy in the larder. A thief in the night, a fly in my soup. A shadow moving in the rain where no shadow should be –"

"A demon!"

"Hm. Not subtle enough. Demons, indeed, are radically unsubtle, or they could be so described. Though I suppose –"

"Fujiwara-dono! A demon! Here, now, in the City! A real, genuine, horrible demon! With wings! Mistress – Mizuno Youko-sama – sent me to tell you. The most horrible – Aaaaaagh!"

Fujiwara-dono, with no transitional stages or any apparent movement whatever, had gone from hanging by her feet from the ceiling several feet away, to standing directly over Touko and peering intently into her face from mere inches away, frightening and startling her quite badly.

"A demon?" she rasped.

Touko nodded quickly.

"Here, in Heian Kyo?"

Touko nodded quickly again.

Fujiwara-dono's face split into a broad grin.

This was not a thing a sensitive girl wanted to see, especially not if she was already a bit nervous. Touko cringed and shrank back, an involuntary moaning noise coming from her throat. Fujiwara-dono had an awful mindless joy in her face, like a former human who had lived under a rock in a desert for years and years, and had had all her wits baked into uselessness by the sun. She then made it worse by cackling, "Ah ha ha ha ha hahahahahhh..."

"Fujiwara-dono!"

"A demon!" Fujiwara-dono trilled. Her voice sounded fifty years younger than it had a moment ago. "That means I get to go on – a DEMON HUNT!"

Touko watched in bewildered disbelief as Fujiwara-dono ran to a cabinet and pulled out a quiver of arrows and a longbow, a few throwing-knives – and a horn: long, yellow, carved with foreign symbols. "I haven't been on a good demon hunt since I can't remember when – oh, the joy –" She pulled on a rude cloak that looked as if it had been made from the imperfectly tanned hide of one single large dead animal, and slapped on a wide-brimmed hat. She turned, and the full effect of her getup filled Touko with fear and loathing and a kind of dark amusement. "Where is this damned demon, then, Matsudaira-kun? Point me!"

"D-don't know –"

"WHERE?"

"Sh-Shimako-san said s-south –"

"SOUTHWARD! YOICKS!"

Fujiwara-dono ran to her balcony, threw open the sliding door, and leapt out, into the rain, and over the balcony railing.

Touko screamed and ran after her.

Rain. A flash of lightning. The horrible sun burning wetly in the west, from under a canopy of dark grey and black. Three storeys below: the empty street. No sign of Fujiwara-dono anywhere.

She heard a couple of her classmates bursting into the room behind her. "Fujiwara-dono!" "Oh, Fujiwara-dono, whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing," Touko said. "She's just gone completely mad at last, that's all." She stepped back into the room and closed the balcony door.

* * *

_Arms encircled her like frozen branches, squeezing her chest. Her breath came short and she gasped for more. The ghosts flew in and out, shrieking furies, vowing revenge for her rejection of their advances, vowing her destruction. She struggled, struggled for breath, struggled for freedom, but she was strengthless, as her wind lessened – one– last – try –_

_"SACHIKO-SAMA!"_

And she was back once more, awaking from one nightmare to another, back in the streets of Heian Kyo, and there was still a demon chasing her. As she struggled to her feet she looked south away, down Red Bird Avenue. There it was. It was running strangely, and – there was something funny about the top of its head, between the horns, but she couldn't quite tell what at this distance, and through the rain. She had a lead of nearly two whole bo, it seemed, and was somewhere in the seventh ward, but the Demon was whittling away at her lead the longer she sat here. Move, move – she got to her feet once more.

She couldn't remember again today, obviously. That last time had nearly destroyed her. The hungry ghosts were fools, and would forget her, but she had to give them time to forget; if she went back now she felt sure they would fall on her instantly, with a fury and a hunger ten times more terrible than before. And anyway, she was so tired, just the act of remembering might knock her out – She couldn't see the sun from here but there was still orange light in the west, though it was darkening to red. She wondered if she would be dead by the time it was all red... She redoubled her efforts, with her exhausted limbs. If it caught her–

She gasped, and choked. Something was pulling on her neck.

_The thread, the black thread!_ The Demon was pulling on it. She must go faster –

No good. It was reeling her in. It would slowly shorten the thread, shorten the distance between them. Yumi was running with her hands on her throat, feeling around – she had almost seen the thread before; could she get a grip on it somehow? Perhaps to pull on it, yank it out of the Demon's hands as she had done with the whip? She felt deep frustration: how had the Demon made the thread in the first place? What was this bond between them?

If the foul thing caught her: straight to Sachiko-sama. But how could she prevent that now?...

* * *

Eriko was getting tired. Too much flying for one day. She loved to do it, though, and it had been quite some time since her last flight. Indeed, she had almost forgotten the original purpose of _this_ flight, when Yoshinosuke cried out, "Yumi-san! Oh, Yumi-san! Eriko-sama! There she is! And... oh, merciful Heaven, what is that thing?"

Eriko couldn't see a blessed thing. They were headed west on Sixth Street. There were houses to either side and, about a ho's width ahead, the willows of Red Bird Avenue, just visible through the sheets of rain. "Where, Yoshino? I don't see anything –"

"On Red Bird Avenue," Yoshino shouted. She sounded calmer. A stout one in a crisis, Yoshinosuke; always had been. "South, perhaps a cho's width, but moving north, quite fast. You'll see them soon, unless – oh, Eriko-sama, the thing is gaining on her –"

"What thing, Yoshino?"

"It looks like –"

There was an unearthly howling noise from that direction. Yoshino breathed a sharp, choking breath at it, and Eriko was hard pressed not to just fall out of the sky, at the sound.

"In the City!" she breathed. "Impossible! Our protections –"

"Okay," Yoshino said. "So we're imagining things. In fact, we're both imagining the _same_ thing. We're pretty talented, aren't we, Eriko-sama?"

Practical, too. Always had been. "Impertinent slip of a girl! Do you always talk to Dragons in this bumptious, self-assured way?"

"Only when I'm right."

"I'll buy you a sweet later. Right now I should land and let you off –"

"Oh, no! I'm not sitting this one out, Eriko-sama. This is a _demon_. The City is in danger. And Yumi-san is my friend! and I –"

"All right, then, Yoshinosuke. Earn your spurs. It's touchy, though. What do we do?"

"Fire! Right? That's the sure thing against demons!"

The howling was much closer. From the direction and the distance, they would meet the demon at the corner quite suddenly any moment now. "In this rain regular fire won't _stay_ fire; it'll turn to black mud. And fire strong enough to stay lit is dangerous. You know this city, Yoshino. It burns at the drop of a taper, even when soggy from the inclement weather –"

"Eriko-sama – ERIKO-SAMA, WE'RE ALMOST THERE, AND IT'S ALMOST CAUGHT UP TO HER!" Yoshino was terribly excited. "AND OH, ITS CLAWS! IT'LL HAVE HER ANY MOMENT NOW! BLAST THE THING –"

_Here goes nothing,_ Eriko thought. She angled up slightly, then leveled, and then went into a dive. "Brace yourself, Yoshinosukeeeeeee –"

"YUMI-SAAAAAAN!" Yoshinosuke howled.

* * *

Yumi was done. She was running all out, but it was no use, it would not do. She heard the Demon's great chicken legs clutching at the roadway and throwing it behind, eating with its claws the distance between them, she heard its steps, she heard its breathing, she _felt its breath_ and smelled the skin-crawling rotten-meat scent of it; its horrible clawed hands would be clutching her back any moment now –

There was a flashing, flapping black thing in the rain, like a falling house, like ebon lightning. Yumi barely had a moment to react – was it screaming her _name_? –

There was a great thudding _whumpf!_ of earth and air, and Yumi was hurtling forward through the night.

She landed reasonably well, and there was so much mud and standing water in the roadway now that falling was more messy than injurious. Bruises, and one nasty scrape from a stone, and that was all. She thought of just lying there where she'd landed, but that was a stupid idea, unless she wanted this mud to be her final bed. _What's one stretch of mud to another?_ she thought wearily, but struggled to her feet regardless –

There was earth and bits of stone everywhere in the avenue, sometimes in little heaps, the leavings of an impromptu pit which appeared to have been dug more or less where she'd been running. The demon was locked in combat with the great flapping black shape – the demon appeared to be coming off worse; there was a deep cut over one eye –

"Run, Yumi-san! To the Inn! Never mind us –"

_Is that Yoshino-san?_

"Do as she says!" yelled another voice, from just behind the demon and to the right – the Demon swung an arm out to swat the voice, but when the arm was finished its sweep, there was a dark shape climbing up it – _Satou-sama? Is that Satou-sama's voice?_ And the Demon was looking around, dazed, at another dark figure climbing up its other arm –

"Run to Sachiko, Yumi! She needs you! Run now!"

_Mizuno Youko-sama..._

All of them had come to help her.

She couldn't leave them –

But she couldn't do them any good –

The pounding of a horse's hooves, a furious whinny, a high-pitched scream. "EAT THIS!" trumpeted like a battle cry. The rider flew past Yumi, spraying mud and rain. A tree branch was launched in blue and violet flames from the back of the horse, and it went over the head of the great flapping black shape and straight up the Demon's left nostril. Whatever the Demon might have had to say about this indignity was drowned out, though Yumi saw its mouth stretch and its eyes roll in the sudden flash: lightning lashed and thunder ripped the air almost as one, and a building on the west side of the avenue burst and began to smoke horribly in the rain.

Yumi panicked and ran. To the inn, to the inn – Maybe Yumi had time to warn Sachiko-sama – maybe Sachiko-sama could be protected, with all those sorceresses attacking the Demon – _Was that Rei-sama on the back of that horse? – _anyway, they were too close now –

Above her, another dark shape came flying, and screaming something Yumi couldn't hear over the wind and the rain.

Behind her, the Demon bellowed fury.

* * *

Sachiko had packed Yumi's things, in order to demonstrate to herself her certainty that Yumi was coming back.

She would have preferred to be out there searching for Yumi, of course. She couldn't escape the feeling that terrible things were happening out there, that Yumi was in great danger, and perhaps of worse things than catching cold. She had nearly put on her cloak to go out, but thought, _everybody is out looking for her. What if she comes back here, and there's no one to greet her?_

Yumi was a bit mysterious, a bit unaccountable. Sachiko still didn't know why it was the girl had run away, unless it was because she herself had been cruel to Yumi without noticing... She cursed herself. She seldom noticed these things while they were happening – or, worse, she simply chose not to notice them because there were more important considerations, but –

_More important than Yumi's feelings?_

Did she really have any considerations like that?

_Am I up to this?_

If Yumi needed more than Sachiko had to give, or was capable of giving...

_Growing up, Sachiko had been princess of all she surveyed. But as she grew, and the order of things became clearer to her, it seemed that she was to have no real control over the direction her life would take. She was to marry her cousin Suguru, she had learned early on. Well and good. Her cousin Suguru was beautiful. She could definitely think of worse things to be married to; they came to the house for dinner all the time. But then it had turned out that cousin Suguru didn't especially want to marry her... he'd been honest with her, give him that. He did care for her, he said. He just couldn't be in love with her. He was marrying her out of duty, and because he wanted to be heir to her father as well as his own._

_Why should she complain? Was it any worse than what most women have to put up with?_

_No. She just didn't want to put up with it, that was all._

_And so, one day, in her chambers, she had been reading a novel – something silly, it didn't matter what – and every now and then stopping to glare through the shutters at the snow outside and run over her options in her mind:_

_1. Get married._

_2. Take the veil._

_3. Die._

_She had been doing this off and on for weeks, now, and these were all the options she'd been able to come up with. She didn't like any of them very much. She supposed that, of the three, she liked option two best, but that didn't mean that she could look at option two in isolation and say, "I like that option – shave my head, live in a monastery, spend all my time either chanting sutras or sleeping – that, by all that is wonderful, is how I would like to spend the rest of my life." She couldn't honestly say that at all._

_She was unable to concentrate on the passage she was reading because she was hunting desperately – indeed without hope – for option number four._

_When, quite suddenly, option number four tapped on her verandah door._

_Perplexed, she went to answer the tapping._

_When she opened the door, she didn't immediately say, "Ah-ha! Option number four! I've been expecting you." She had no idea, of course._

_There, on her porch, in stark relief against the snow- and ice-encrusted garden behind, stood a most extraordinary person, wearing grey robes and dark grey hakama, and with a black hat on which looked as if it had been improvised from a folded napkin. Fabulously old – Sachiko had certainly never seen anyone as old as this. Nodding to herself, humming a maddening little tune – two notes, one to the other and back again, occasionally leaping up to a third note, but not according to any pattern or rule Sachiko could make out._

_"I was in the neighbourhood," the old person said, between hums._

_Until the old person spoke, Sachiko had been quite certain that he was a man, mainly because of the divided hakama. Now she was quite sure she was a woman, if a very oddly dressed one._

_"Were you?" Sachiko answered. This was quite fabulously rude of the old person, to suddenly appear on Sachiko's verandah rather than at the main gate, and announce herself so casually, and ordinarily – not that there was anything ordinary about this situation – Sachiko would have screamed for a servant to come and throw the old lunatic out, but somehow she didn't like to._

_"I was," the old person went on. "Passing through. I was going by this house, on my way to somewhere else, doesn't much matter where, and I was seized by a sudden change of mood. Boiling gloom, despair such as I have not known since I was fourteen, which was, oh, quite a long time ago – and a growing fury. The helpless fury and frustration of an animal caught in a trap. Sound familiar?"_

_Yes. "No."_

_"Yes, it does. Please do not try it on with me, Ogasawara-kun."_

_Sachiko was a bit startled to be addressed so directly, and somehow she had never thought of herself as a -kun. This impertinent, impossible old person interested her more by the moment. There was only so much self-cudgeling would accomplish. Sachiko would try what a fresh perspective could do. "Would you care to come in?" she'd said. "We're letting all the warm air out, and there was precious little of it to start with."_

_"Don't mind if I do, Miss Manners." The old person came in._

_"Will you tell me your name?" Sachiko said, throwing more coal on the brazier, without any immediately noticeable effect._

_"Fujiwara Akiko," the old person said._

_Sachiko nearly dropped the brazier lid. She replaced it hurriedly. She knew who that was. Everybody knew who that was. She stared at this infamous personage who was inexplicably in her room – and then she dropped her eyes. "I beg your pardon, Fujiwara-dono – I meant no disprespect –"_

_"I know you didn't," Fujiwara-dono said._

_Sachiko looked up. That wasn't quite the response she'd expected. "May I offer you some refreshment?"_

_"Quite possibly, in another moment. Will you tell me what on earth is the matter, Ogasawara Sachiko-kun?"_

_"How did you know?–"_

_"I know your father's house, girl. Even if I've never seen you, I know he has only one daughter, and with your bearing you could hardly be anybody else. I want to know what's wrong with you."_

_"Wrong with me?"_

_"I did ask you not to try it on. The veritable swamp of your bad mood sucked so insistently at my extremities, making little bubbling sounds, that I strongly suspect you have just the sort of talent I'm always looking for. So I had to come in and find out what the devil was up with you. Come along, Ogasawara-kun. Tell me your troubles."_

_Sachiko stared at the floor. "I do not like to complain –"_

_"Of course you don't. And you were brought up very carefully to say so. Nevertheless, I would like to hear your complaints, if you have any. Humour me?... As a guest?..."_

_Sachiko really didn't want to talk about it. "I just... My life has all been planned out for me."_

_"Not unusual, for a girl of your class. Or indeed a girl of any class."_

_"I know it. But... It's not even that it's so terrible a life... I just don't happen to want it."_

_"Yes, very sad. Tell me, however: what would you like to do instead?"_

_"I can do what they say, or I can kill myself, or I can take the veil."_

_"Really?" Fujiwara-dono's look was not unfriendly, but it was searching, demanding, in a way Sachiko did not quite like. "And that's all that occurs to you?"_

_"If there was anything else, anything I could call good, I would have gone out and done it already," Sachiko said, a bit shortly. "I assure you, Fujiwara-dono, I don't enjoy sitting here, on the horns of a three-horned dilemma!"_

_"Aaah!" Fujiwara-dono said, in an illuminated way, as if Sachiko had just succeeded in explaining a very difficult Chinese logogram. Then she was quiet for a bit._

_Sachiko wondered if she had been too impatient with the eccentric old dame._

_Then Fujiwara-dono said, "I should like to stay in here with you tonight, if I may."_

_Sachiko had not known just what to say to this, at first. An odd request, to say the least, from someone she had just met. But as Fujiwara-dono waited politely, comfortably for her answer, Sachiko decided that Fujiwara-dono's company was the most pleasant she'd had to bear with lately, and she had not yet given up hope that someone so non-compliant with the accepted notions of the day might, after all, have some solution to Sachiko's dilemma – provided she were sufficiently humored._

_"All right, then," Sachiko said._

_She heard her ladies, behind their screens, gasping, tittering, whispering their astonishment to one another. One thing about her lost life in her father's house that she missed – or didn't miss, exactly, but their absence had taken some getting used to – was the ubiquitous ladies in waiting. Behind screens, in corners, behind walls. They were there to serve one, in case one needed service. They were always available, in case there was something you couldn't manage yourself. They always listened. They commented on whatever was happening to you, in almost but not quite audible tones, as a kind of captive audience to the drama of your life. Though it was more like they peeped at you from the wings. The chorus of one's life – but the chorus had gone silent since she had left her father's house. A girl as ungrateful as she was not entitled to personal servants._

_It was one of the best ironies of Sachiko's life that she had lost her constant audience for good just when her life had started to get really interesting._

_At any rate. The really interesting period actually dated, not from Sachiko's leaving her father's house, but from Fujiwara-dono's tapping on her garden door that winter's afternoon. That evening, and the night that followed, were the most astonishing and eye-opening of her life to date, though she could never say, afterward, just what had been so eye-opening about it, not specifically. They talked a great deal, Fujiwara-dono about astonishing sights she had seen and people she had known, and Sachiko about... well, about everything she knew, though it didn't seem like much compared with Fujiwara-dono's lightest utterance. But Fujiwara-dono seemed fascinated by much that Sachiko had to say. She felt later that she'd best succeeded in holding Fujiwara-dono's interest when she told her of the few times in her life when she'd been truly happy. Fujiwara-dono never seemed to listen with her full attention – though Sachiko never caught her out in inattention – but Sachiko thought that Fujiwara-dono actually looked at her more at this juncture than at other times – or ever, since._

_After that, Sachiko began to weep uncontrollably. And Fujiwara-dono held her, and comforted her. It seemed completely natural at the time that she should do so; it was only later that Sachiko thought it seemed out-of-character for Fujiwara-dono._

_And in the morning, Fujiwara-dono had given her a test, with a handful of earth, a basin of water, a lit taper, an ornamental dagger, and the very air about them. And Sachiko had passed the test with flying colors._

_This, too, was a moment of happiness..._

But it seemed that happiness could not be held to for any great length of time, she thought as she sat drinking a cup of tea and looking at the bundle of clothes and other necessities she had got together for Yumi.

Her responsibility to Yumi had frightened her at times, especially at night, when Yumi slept – the times when Yumi wasn't right there with her, and she was alone with her responsibilities. But never when Yumi was in sight, when Yumi was looking at her. Then, she would think, _I can do whatever is necessary, for her happiness. For us to be together. I am equal to anything._

_Oh, who am I fooling?_

She clearly wasn't equal to this. All Yumi had done was disappear for a few hours. How would Sachiko conduct herself if they met with _real_ problems? Since Yumi had disappeared, she was a mess. Tears a finger's breadth away, unable to concentrate on anything that wasn't Yumi – unable to shake the feeling that Yumi was in danger out there, somewhere, while Sachiko sat here safe and dry –

There was some sort of horrible noise out in the street. Growling, hissing –

_Children playing pranks? In this storm?_

She stood and went to the verandah of the main room. She shoved the sliding door open irritably, walked out, ignoring the spatters of runoff from the gutters, looked out between them, into the almost-mist made by the indecently eager rain. Mist and darkness, and the street below, and a shaft of freakish sunset light, reddish orange, between her verandah and the house next door.

She saw shapes coming up the street. One of them was unnaturally large.

She stared in amazement as an exhausted, soaked, battered and bedraggled girl, who was instantly recognizable as Yumi, came running into the light. And then she stared harder at what what was behind her –

* * *

Yumi had turned onto Kogamon Avenue at Fifth Street, and covered most of the ho's distance from there to the Mountain Lily Inn, when she heard demonic laughter, much too loud, behind her. It had got away. Somehow it had got away from everybody and it must have jumped, or done something awful, but here it came, almost on her heels. She had to find more speed from somewhere, fast –

Yumi didn't know how this had happened. She remembered her resolve what seemed like a lifetime ago, back at the beginning of this chase: she would not lead the Demon to Sachiko-sama. And somehow she had ended up doing just that. There was the Inn. There was Sachiko-sama on the verandah on the second floor. She could see her in the terrible western light, and a flash of lightning further illuminated her face; she was glaring furiously at Yumi, or at the thing behind Yumi.

_Will I ever know which?_ Yumi thought, and it was a lonely thought at the end of her life.

She forced herself to yell as loudly as she could:

"Sachiko-sama – RUN – I can't –"

And that was too much, and Yumi went down in a monstrous huge puddle, almost a pond in the middle of the street. Almost immediately she was fighting her way back up, straining for one last sight of Sachiko-sama –

What happened next happened too quickly to be really followed, but this is how Yumi _felt_ it:

– The Demon, with rain trickling down its leathery hide, intent on its prey on the verandah, was above Yumi, bracing itself for a great leap to the second storey. It made an anticipatory grunting noise – _wur-URR!_ – as it moved to plant one wide, horny, hook-clawed foot on Yumi, probably to use her as a spring-board to Sachiko-sama, breaking and killing Yumi underneath –

– Sachiko-sama's hand on the verandah railing was joined there by a foot. The furious glare bounced a little, and then blurred to nothing as Sachiko-sama launched herself into the air –

– The Demon's foot was already descending when Sachiko-sama leapt, and that leap should have been Yumi's last sight in this world – and a fine, brave last sight it would have been – but there was a twisting, tumbling tunnel of light in the air, and a terrific noise, and the foot was gone from above Yumi's head.

Yumi's bracing hand slipped, and she went face-first in the puddle again. But her death still didn't come.

Bewildered, Yumi raised herself again and looked behind her, gasping for breath, her sides heaving.

The Demon was rolling in the mud of the street, squealing in pain, and beating at its own face. Yumi saw why: Sachiko-sama had her feet planted on its chest, was gripping its right ear with her left hand, and was furiously twisting its nose with her right. Yumi could have sworn she'd heard a bone crack one moment, and didn't have to swear when the Demon's squeals had gone from piercing to kittenish in the next. Sachiko-sama was shrieking, terrible words that seemed to pop and crack in the air like fireworks.

The demon seemed to get purchase finally and flung Sachiko-sama off it; it gibbered as she managed to get one last sharp twist in just as she lost her grip.

She was a heap of wet, muddy robes flapping through the night. She bounced horribly off a wooden pillar on the empty house across the street, leaving it slightly bent. Yumi gasped, sure in that crippling, icy moment that she'd seen her mistress's death.

But before Yumi could begin to grieve... there she was. Sachiko-sama, whole and breathing. Standing near the pillar. Rubbing one arm. Glaring at the Demon. And advancing upon it. Slowly and deliberately.

"For coming into the City," Sachiko-sama said, calmly but loudly, because of the rain, "you die. For threatening my imouto, you die _hard_."

The demon grinned in what would have been a charming, if big-faced, manner, if its nose hadn't been decorated with fresh burn-blisters, as well as streaming blood, and its dog's tongue hadn't been flicking defiantly between its incisors. It was also covered in welts and wounds, and that messy, brainy crack in the top of its lumpy head probably detracted the most from any lingering, desperate possibility of charm.

It squealed like a predatory pig, and then pounced on her.

Yumi gasped. Sachiko-sama was trapped under the thing. She lay there, glaring up at it, her torso banded by its paws, her arms and legs spread in the muck and filth of the street. She seemed resigned to her fate, almost. "What a wonderful supper!" said the demon, and its big mouth opened, got bigger, started to close over Sachiko-sama. Yumi was already running forward, the terror straining her face out of shape, thinking only to fling herself into the demon's mouth, distract it long enough for Sachiko-sama to get away.

But then there was a nasty cracking, splintering noise, and the demon leaped backward, letting out a hoarse scream.

And Sachiko-sama stood, tall and proud again – if muddier – arms folded, looking at it. A look that would take the lacquer off a paintbox.

The demon became breathless, went to its knees. It was as if the pain was suddenly too horrible for it to even yipe.

It turned its head to look at Sachiko-sama out of one horrible bulging bloodshot eye.

"In the last few years, I have repeatedly shown my family and all the world that I am willing to get my hands dirty," Sachiko-sama told it. "My clothes also, if need be. Cracking one of a prized pair of shoes in order to snap one of your filthy fangs out of your mouth is a bit above-and-beyond, but I'm horrible enough for that too, it seems."

She reached into her robes and produced, incongruously – magically? – a length of metal. It looked suspiciously like a prizing-bar such as workmen used to disassemble houses.

"In fact," she went on, "I am in just the right mood to break every single one of your teeth, one at a time, even if it means ruining this prizing-bar for good. All day long, since my little fox was taken from me, I've been longing to hurt something, but couldn't find a creature horrid enough to deserve it... and now, you come along _asking_ me."

She tossed the prizing-bar from hand to hand with a deft flourish, smiled a really horrible smile, and said:

"So come and be broken, my horny pet. The night is young."

* * *

The demon charged again. Sachiko threw the prizing-bar. It hit it in the mouth. The demon reared back, with a scream, but this time its rage seemed to overwhelm any pain it was feeling, and it came on after her. It grabbed for her. She ducked, and danced away. It grabbed lower; she leapt up, and slapped its face, putting as much air as she could gather in the moment in front of her hand. This made a powerfully concentrated explosion right over its face, which caused a tooth to shoot from its mouth, and also stunned it. It fell back on its bottom with an enormous splat and a slow, immense, rising corona of mud from which little escaped.

Sachiko wasn't sure how you killed a demon. Her whole plan at this point was to use all the most awful things she knew, keep throwing them at it, repeatedly if necessary, until it was overwhelmed...

...but the thing was already struggling to its feet again. It was awfully tough. What if she didn't know any spells strong enough to finish it off?

_Some improvisation may be required,_ she thought.

The important thing was protecting Yumi...

_...Why is a demon chasing Yumi? What's it after?..._

Swaying a bit, the demon smiled that ghastly smile again, made worse by additional blood, one tooth split down to the gum, another tooth missing altogether, and the prizing bar sticking out of the gums between its two front teeth. And then, even worse, it spoke:

"Why, _you_, Ogasawara Sachiko. I'm after you. Of course."

Its voice was deep, but with barely audible harmonics up top. It was an alluring voice somehow, even with the hideousness from which it emerged. Sachiko felt herself drawn to it – but managed to keep still where she stood.

She was a little frightened now. It hadn't even been _trying_...

* * *

The others came running up at this point. Hasekura-kun, Noriko-chan, Torii-san, Yoshino-kun, Mizuno-san, Satou-san, and Fujiwara Akiko. Todo Shimako-kun brought up the rear; she'd arrived a bit late.

They were all very muddy, except for Fujiwara Akiko. They were all rather annoyed, except for Fujiwara Akiko. The muddy and annoyed ones were muddy and annoyed because they had been fighting the demon, and had seemed to be getting the upper hand, when suddenly it had burst out of the mud, almost flying, shrieking laughter, and had knocked them all about the place, and nearly trampled Mizuno-san, except Satou-san had managed to pull her clear. They had watched open-mouthed as it tumbled up the avenue like a toy thrown by a giant child, laughing wildly like that same child being tossed up into the stars by its drunken father. Great gouts of mud went flying everywhere, one of them hitting the smoking, lightning-struck house, which oddly seemed only to increase the screaming from that quarter. After about half a cho of this dumbfounding locomotion, the demon had gained its feet, and seemed to be moving under its own power again, at a terrible clip on those long legs, going after Yumi –

Akiko had swiveled her head to glare at her pupil-comrades. They seemed much struck still by the image of the demon flopping along the street like a bundle of weeds in the wind, and weren't moving, only staring. Torii Eriko with Yoshino-chan cradled in her arms... Hasekura Rei-kun, her hair quite mussed, with Noriko-kun clinging to her back, and it seemed they'd lost track of the horse they'd ridden in on... Even Satou-san and Mizuno-san, still holding onto each others' arms, one of Satou-san's arms wrapped around Mizuno-san's shoulders. It was downright touching, and she could have tanned their hides, the both of them –

"GET AFTER IT!" she had howled.

And after it they had gotten, with excellent if belated, muddy, and annoyed speed.

Akiko, foremost black sheep of the Fujiwaras, was not herself muddy because she knew how to land well, and no more would she ever say on the subject, to anyone who asked her. If these youngsters insisted on ruining their clothes by playing around in the mud, well, that was their lookout. They were annoyed because they didn't know how the demon had done what it had done. Akiko, great-granddaughter of Fujiwara no Michinaga (a famous man and the cleverest statesman of his day or of most other days), was worried rather than annoyed because she had a suspicion that she did know how the demon had done what it had done, and it wasn't good news, either for Ogasawara-kun, or dear little Yumi-kun...

Akiko was in the lead as they came up to where a grinning demon and a grim Ogasawara-kun were facing one another off in the last of the sunset light. Yumi stood at the corner of the Inn, watching. She had eyes for no-one but her mistress. Just the sight of her made Fujiwara Akiko nostalgic for days gone by...

_No time for that now._

She shook herself.

Without having to look, she drew an arrow from her quiver, and notched it in her bow. She bent the bow at the demon, and let fly her arrow.

The arrow burned in the air with many colors, of vermilion, indigo, and gold, and sang with a deep, joyful energy. All who saw it were so delighted that it took their delight longer to fade than the hope that flew with it: the colored shaft burst in the air before the demon, and fell in a shower of burnt splinters.

"Ah!" Fujiwara Akiko said sadly.

"What?" said Satou-san.

"Pretty," said little Noriko.

The demon turned its head to look at Fujiwara Akiko with a bloody leer.

"You cannot touch us, Fujiwara," it rumbled. "I have woven my circle too well. We have made the circle together, and come back here in the end. Now Ogasawara has stepped into the circle under her own power, and I have drawn it tight. Your toys cannot come in, and she cannot come out."

There was a bustle nearby as Mizuno-san burst forward, and was restrained by Satou-san. "It's right, Youko," Satou-san was saying hastily. "It's ugly as hell, but it speaks sooth. You'll only do yourself an injury if you try. Sachiko wouldn't want that!..."

Mizuno-san seemed to accept this, but still gripped Satou-san's arm as she glared into the demon's circle at her imouto.

"Satou-san is right, Mizuno-san," Fujiwara Akiko said. "We've done all we can. Now all we can do is stand by, and see if we've done enough, already, for our student..."

The demon reached into the air, and closed one fist.

Yumi-kun, still by the corner of the Inn, put her hands to her throat. Her eyes had gone very wide.

"No..." she said.

She took one step toward the demon. And then another.

The demon turned its leer upon Ogasawara-kun.

"Leave her alone," Ogasawara-kun said, with surprising calm.

"Do you want this?" the demon taunted.

Yumi-kun took three more steps quickly, and stopped. Immediately, her eyes squeezed shut, as if she was in pain.

"I told you," Ogasawara-kun said, calmly, clearly, and slowly, "to leave her alone. This is the last time I will tell you."

Akiko frowned. Was Ogasawara-kun playing for time, or did she actually have something in mind?

"Or you'll... do what?" the demon retorted.

Five more steps. Yumi-kun's face was almost still this time, though slight twitches showed that resistance was still causing her considerable pain. _She's trying to be strong._

Then, so suddenly it startled everyone, Yumi-kun threw a rock at the demon's face. The demon threw an arm up and the rock bounced away harmlessly, but Yumi-kun seemed to have distracted it from the leash-war long enough to gain some ground, and was running away, toward the other side of the street, perhaps meaning to hide in the empty house –

– and then was running in place –

– and then, most curiously, was slipping backward, still running full out, trying desperately to run fast enough to outrun the tie, but nevertheless being slowly pulled, dragged backward towards a large, bloody grin –

And then Ogasawara-kun was there between them.

* * *

_You're a fool, Ogasawara Sachiko,_ she had told herself. _This is about much more than defeating a demon._

Was she equal to the task of being Yumi's mistress? She had plagued herself with the question much of the afternoon. If she wasn't up to it, she realized now, and if she really did care for Yumi, then what she had to do was make her go to someone else.

Only it was too late for that. She and Yumi were both bound to this demon. So she had to be strong enough, and prove that she was strong enough, now, in front of everybody. She had to prove that her bond with Yumi was stronger than the demon's bond with Yumi.

But first she had to _find_ the demon's bond with Yumi...

* * *

Yumi's running feet slipped, and she fell back a little, but found herself backed up against someone else's back, a stiff, proud, unyielding back, and knew instinctively who it was. "Sachiko-sama – _please_ run – I can't –"

"Can't what?" came the flintlike voice of her mistress in one of her most terrible rages. "You can't protect me? Maybe you can't, but no one ever asked you to. I am your mistress; _I _protect _you_. He shall not have you."

"I will have you both!" the demon sang gleefully.

"That you will not," Sachiko-sama called in a voice of steel. "We're not for the taking. Back to the woods, filth! Eat little birds and moles, the ones stupid enough to let you catch them."

"I've been after _this_ little bird for months," the Demon chuckled. "I've forged a bond between us. I've watched her, slept with her, pricked her on when her spirits flagged –"

"_Nice_ metaphor, keep it up," Sachiko-sama said under her breath. Yumi felt warmth at her back, and the familiar ease in her limbs, and was just happy to be this close to her mistress once again... even as they both edged closer and closer to the Demon, in spite of Sachiko-sama's stiff back... even more so when her mistress took her hands, so that they were back to back and clasping hands, leaning against one another... a pulse of joy went through her... she couldn't give this up, couldn't die and leave it behind... was... was Mistress doing _magic?_...

"We have all watched over her, followed her," the Demon was saying, "but mine has been the work. I caught her, only to catch you – and depend on it: to be with her, you have to follow, and obey. I shall devour you both, and you shall both live on within me. And in the coming wars, we demons shall have a fivefold sorceress to command! A sorceress who can do anything except... except..."

The force pulling at Yumi lessened, and stopped.

Astonished, she turned, clung to Sachiko-sama's back, peered around her shoulder.

In one hand, Sachiko-sama was holding a fragmented length of black thread. As Yumi watched, it fragmented further: a sudden wind made it tumbling fibres, and then nothing.

Sachiko-sama wasn't even looking at it. She was looking dead into the eyes of the flabbergasted demon.

"Except _this_, do you mean?" she said calmly.

* * *

The demon's shadow lengthened. Its face stretched so that the bulging chin hung low on its chest, its dark brows drew down, its teeth grew longer and yellower, and its eyes burned yellow at them from under the brows.

It seemed to have run out of words. Its tricks were exhausted; its cleverness was sprung like a clock shattered on paving-stones. All that was left in those eyes was the will to hurt, rend, gnaw.

"Yumi, run. Run to Sei. _Now_, Yumi." Sachiko stared at the advancing demon.

"No, Mistress," said the voice below her shoulder.

"Yumi, do as I tell you!"

"I will not leave you, Mistress." Yumi's voice was firm.

Sachiko closed her eyes briefly. "Oh, good," she sighed.

"Mistress?"

"Never mind." One of dear Yumi's hands still sat in one of hers. She raised it quickly to her lips. "Then at least get out of the way, little fox," she said. "I can't fight and shield you all at once."

* * *

"We can attack now, can't we?" Youko said urgently.

"Get closer," said Fujiwara-dono. "And try to get behind it. From this angle there's too good a chance of killing our own."

* * *

Yumi dodged away in a quick run, almost skipping with urgency. More rocks. She needed something to throw. Oh, she couldn't _hurt_ the leathery thing with rocks, but if she got it in the eye with one, that might distract it at the right moment –

Oh, it was on her – it had struck too fast for Yumi's eye to follow, and it had Sachiko-sama in one big paw – it was squeezing – she was screaming in pain, but she'd got the prizing-bar in one hand and was twisting it, _hoisting_ herself on it, and the demon's screams rose to match hers, but there was a kind of insane glee in its screams – _It can keep this up longer than Sachiko-sama can – it's over into an area where it thinks pain is_ funny _–_

Orange and yellow lights burst on its back, blue-white and boiling at their centres. Terrible concussions of sound fragmented the night. The demon did not so much as stagger.

* * *

"How is it _doing_ that?" Youko wanted to know.

"Miscalculation!" Fujiwara-dono cried. "To the front!"

"But then we might hit Sachiko!"

"Its back is too well-armored! I'll go and –"

The demon's howls changed from insane joy to a forlorn, gargling desperation. When Sei saw why, she laughed uproariously, startling her comrades badly.

* * *

Sachiko, her ribs aching, fought off the dizziness and braced herself up on one elbow.

A gigantic creature, almost as large as the demon, and of a strange dirty translucence, had pinned the demon in the street. It was hitting the demon with its ill-defined fists, which splattered with the impacts, but reformed for the next blow.

It had a peculiar crested head and three watery eyes.

The demon, outraged, made a mighty effort to heave the water creature off. The water creature drove its fist into the demon's mouth and a lot of water spilled over into its nose. It thrashed and flailed, its eyeballs swelling, its chest heaving for breath.

Sachiko looked around, unbelieving, and found Yumi. Yumi had a hand in the monstrous puddle, which was much less monstrous than it had been. She was giving the demon a fierce look.

"You _shall not_ harm my mistress!" Yumi shouted defiantly.

A great gout of water mixed with blood and worse shot out the demon's nostrils. It raised its arms, and brought its paws together in front of the water creature's face – _crack!_

And the water creature swirled back down in puddles.

* * *

Yumi was disheartened as she saw her creature fall and the demon rise. But she had at least distracted it from Sachiko-sama. Now, she just had to... well... what could she do?...

_...die..._

_No. Try to make the water creature again. Sachiko-sama wouldn't just give up like this. She'd keep trying. Even if the demon succeeded in sending her to Hell, Sachiko-sama would take its nose along._ Yumi did her best to concentrate – not easy. Its face was changing shape again as it advanced upon her, its nose lengthening, broadening, thickening, until it looked like the head of a hammer –

_– concentrate – for Sachiko-sama –_

The demon's chest split, and fire burst out of it.

It screamed. One of its eyeballs turned red, and bloody tears ran down its cheek.

There was a _spear_ of flame sticking out of its chest. The flames were holding this spear-shape, strangely. It seemed to have a head on it like a halberd.

The spear abruptly disappeared, apparently yanked backwards. This seemed to hurt the demon even more, but it also enraged it; it spun to face its attacker, showing Yumi the hole in its back. And Yumi, who had felt a savage joy at seeing the demon pierced, felt the water creature rise with her spirits. It stood again in the street. It advanced plurkily at a hand-motion from Yumi, and planted one fist in the hole in the demon's back –

– and its watery fist was met by fire coming the other way.

* * *

Sachiko grasped her spear lightly. The flames tickled her hands gently and she laughed. The demon was flailing, not making any sound except a long, barely-audible, ratcheting moan; that last shriek seemed to have done something permanent to its voice box. It wasn't just the fire, it was the water meeting it: the demon's innards, chest, back and head were being steam-cooked. _A delicate feast,_ she thought, and nearly retched, and nearly laughed, and kept the pressure on.

The demon seemed to be getting smaller. It had gone to its knees, but its whole frame had shrunk, and Sachiko was having to angle further down in her stance.

The demon's face, about half the size it had been, turned up suddenly to heaven. Light sprinkles of rain gently bathed it. It opened its broken-toothed mouth, and cried, ratchily, "Waaaah!" like a large and angry baby... and then its face was lost in the steam.

* * *

Yumi had moved closer, to right behind her water creature. It had shrunk as the demon had, seeming to feel that there was no point being any larger than necessary.

The steam billowed about. Yumi felt herself relax, felt warm water running around her toes, seeking the lowest level again. The flames of Sachiko-sama's spear thinned, flickered, winked out for good. The steam thinned out, cleared away...

All that was left of the demon was a mask, stuck in the mud of the street. It was a childish effort, poorly painted and varnished. It wore a pained expression but also a demented one, like that of a drunkard who had finally managed to pickle his brains for good.

_Was that all it was, a mask? No... something was wearing the mask. But we never really saw its face..._

The mask split down the middle, with a hiss and a crack, and then crumbled into dirt and mud.

Yumi looked up at Sachiko-sama, who had apparently looked up at the same moment. Their eyes met.

They just looked for a moment.

_What are we trying to look into each other?_

Yumi walked toward Sachiko-sama. She found, however, that her legs wouldn't walk any more. She stumbled, and fell, but Sachiko-sama was there, somehow, and caught her, and pulled her to herself, and held her close. Yumi felt a smile curve her face. Darkness was rising to claim her, but that was all right. She was where she belonged, and all was as it should be...

* * *

Sei limped carefully to Sachiko's side. Sachiko stood there, holding Yumi fiercely, her face in Yumi's hair. They were both wet and muddy.

_Well, we all are..._

The rain had been slowing, and now it stopped. There was nothing but darkness in the west.

"Congratulations, young goofball," Sei said.

"You _may_, if you like, call me 'young goofball,'" Sachiko said, her voice slightly muffled by Yumi's head. "There is some justice in that."

The others joined them there. The Mountain Lily Gang plus Fujiwara-dono. They all looked much bedraggled, except for Fujiwara-dono, who for some reason looked much as she always did.

Yumi sagged in Sachiko's arms.

"Is she –" Yoshino started.

"Yumi?" Sachiko said, sudden fear in her voice. "Yumi!"

_No,_ Sei thought. _Please. Not after all this –_

From the limp form in Sachiko's arms there came a very soft snore.

There was a pause. And another snore. And some stifled laughter among those there present.

"She's... asleep," Youko said, as if she found it difficult of belief.

"I just love a happy ending," Sei told her. She felt intense relief.

Sachiko was looking down with tender astonishment at her sleeping imouto. A deep peace seemed to settle over her. Sei felt strangely warm all a-sudden, and wondered if the others felt the same. If Sachiko had carried winter with her earlier, in the garden, now high summer was in her pouch. And it was probably just rainwater, running down her face there, but to Sei it looked almost like –

"I think –" Sachiko's voice was as cool and stern as ever – "I think that it is _high_ time I got this one to bed."

She reached her left arm down to gather Yumi's legs. As she hoisted her up into her arms, Yumi tucked her face into Sachiko's throat and murmured something about "Sachiko-onee-sama..."

Sachiko almost lost her composure again. Sei saw her lower lip tremble. But it stiffened once more, and Sachiko turned toward the lighted entrance to the Mountain Lily Inn, which framed the open-mouthed faces of Goben the innkeeper and his daughter Miyo.

As Sachiko walked carefully toward the door, Sei saw her lean her head gently against Yumi's.

"Well. I suppose that's _it_, then," Youko said irritably.

"There'll be time for questions and so on later," Fujiwara-dono said.

Youko shook her head as if there were a flea in her ear. "And what did that monstrosity say about 'the coming wars'?" she demanded. "_What_ coming wars? Demon wars? Is that what it meant?"

"I doubt it will be anything so simple," Fujiwara-dono said gravely. "We can talk about it tomorrow. We'll have to talk about it soon, certainly. But for right now, Yumi needs rest, and I suspect Ogasawara-kun does too, after a fight like that, though she puts up a brave enough front. You ought to be proud of her, Mizuno-san."

"I am," Youko said icily.

"Proud, annoyed, same thing," Sei said cheerfully.

Youko sighed. "She killed a demon. She had help, granted. We softened it up before it got here. But she killed it. A demon."

"She _and Yumi_ killed it," Fujiwara-dono corrected. "You'll not forget Yumi's part in it."

"She did generate that water-thing, then?" Youko said. "But how? Sachiko's barely started on teaching her basic magic, correct?"

"Yes," Sei said. "But Yumi surprised us. I'll be bound it's not the last time Yumi will surprise us all."

"What is it, Sei?" Youko was giving Sei one of her hard looks. "You know more than you're saying."

_She never was an easy mark, this Mizuno mine._ "Know? Not so. I suspect more than I know. Yumi has at least one more magic at her disposal: she can disappear one place and appear in another. These things are natural with her; she wasn't taught them. I think she's barely aware of them, most of the time. And I think she has other gifts we haven't seen yet, tricks of seeming, most of them; slips and sleights to conceal and reveal and tantalize, and pull the wool over the eyes..."

"You almost make her sound like a fox," Youko said doubtfully.

"I almost do, don't I?"

"But... Yumi's human. Isn't she?"

"I think she is."

"Then..."

"Then? When? You know, I believe I'll make it an early night, myself."

"You, Satou-san?" Fujiwara-dono said happily.

"Just _watching_ that fight was tiring. And I should get up early. I haven't even packed. We go a-journeying tomorrow, my clever rabbits. Adieu!"

"Good-night, Sei," Youko said. "I still have to have a word with you, you know."

Sei turned back to face her friend. "Oh? What about?"

"The completely _stupid_ thing you did earlier, that's what. Falling out of the sky onto a demon's head!"

Sei felt great joy. "You _saw_ that?"

"I certainly did!" Youko stood arms akimbo, an outraged look on her face.

Sei drew herself up, and put a hand to her breast. "Was I good?"

Youko sighed, and shook her head. She seemed miffed, for some reason. "You were brilliant, Sei. Of course you were. Never mind. Good night. Thank you for... well, I hardly know what for, actually..."

Sei gave Youko her best smile. "Why, you're heartily welcome, Youko dear. I thank you too, for all sorts of things. Nighty-night!"

And she, too, went inside.

* * *

Slowly, a bit awkwardly, the party broke up. Most of it drifted in the general direction of the Guild Offices north and west of there. After a few minutes, only Rei and Yoshino stood there. Eriko had touched Yoshino's arm and given her a brief look before leaving her. Rei wondered what that had meant.

Rei just looked at Yoshino for a bit. Drinking in the sight of her. After fighting a demon, and seeing its viciousness and evil thwarted and steam-cooked, Yoshino seemed strangely fresh-faced and innocent.

Yoshino looked back.

"We need to talk," she said at last.

"Yes," Rei agreed immediately. "But not tonight."

"Will you push me away again, if I try to come with you?"

"No," Rei said. And she smiled. She could feel the pain in it, her own smile. She wasn't all the way back yet, from wherever she'd been. But she was smiling at Yoshino, and she meant it. She held out her hand.

Yoshino stepped to her and took her hand quickly. Her eyes were wet. "Rei-chan –"

"Hush," Rei said. "Hush, my precious. Sei and Fujiwara-dono are right: tomorrow's the time for talking."

Together, they went into the Inn.

* * *

Yumi was dimly aware of being undressed, and of being rubbed with something. Except for a deep, sleepy conviction that everything was all right, it might have startled her awake. She was naked, and then, with no apparent transition, she was clothed in something. Curious, she opened her eyes to look at herself.

She was lying on Sachiko-sama's pallet, and she was wearing one of Sachiko-sama's robes. She felt herself blush furiously, at the sight of her hands not quite poking out of the beautiful purple silk sleeves with acacia flower pattern. She was just able to see a smear of drying mud on the back of one hand, and realized that, though dry, she was still filthy.

Sachiko-sama was standing by her cabinet, fiddling with something. Finally she closed it, and blew out the taper on its stand. She walked in the crisscrossed moonlight shadow made by the paper sliding door to the verandah, and lay down beside Yumi.

"Mistress – your beautiful robe – I'm still muddy –" Yumi said, feeling deep shame.

"Mmm? So am I. All your warm robes are packed, and it's still too cold for you to sleep naked... Yumi, please don't fuss about this. I'm a little too tired to listen, just now. We'll have to go to the temple bath right quick in the morning as it is, and there'll be lots of other things to do before the expedition sets out, late morning..."

"But, Mistress –" Yumi fell silent as she felt one of Sachiko-sama's hands on her cheek. She closed her eyes. She just lay there and concentrated on the texture.

Her world was this: she felt the hand, and heard the voice saying, in the dark:

"If you must leave me for _your_ own good, then do so. I will try to do you the courtesy of believing you know best what's best for you. But please – my Yumi – don't ever leave me again for _my_ own good. You nearly killed me."

Yumi felt tears coming. Sachiko-sama had missed her, had worried about her. It was too good to be true. But she had to tell her – "Mistress – I still don't know – but, I, I think there are more of them. I think they'll try again –"

"Then we'll deal with them," Sachiko-sama said firmly. "As we dealt with this one. Together."

Yumi opened her eyes in amazement, and beheld her Dark Lady, beautiful, cool and burning in the moonlight.

"Together," Sachiko-sama said, "we are a match for anything."

And Sachiko-sama pulled herself close to Yumi, and kissed her cheek, and held her.

"Goodnight, Yumi."

The tears broke, and rolled, and Yumi was barely aware of them. Yes, all was as it should be. She snuggled up to Sachiko-sama, and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Mistress."

And they slept.

HERE ENDETH BOOK ONE

* * *

Yes, Book One. There's more story to come, though I'm not sure just how much, or how long it'll take. But I'll update when and as I can. I hope everyone isn't too irritated by the disappointed climax, or whatever you'd call it. I thank you all for reading this far, and hope you'll check for future updates. The first chapter of Book Two will probably be posted some time in late January. I'm afraid that's as definite as I can be right now.

Good night, and remember the true, if broken, meaning of Yuletide:

The holly and the ivy,  
When they are both full grown,  
Of all the trees that are in the wood,  
The holly wears the crown.

The holly bears a blossom  
As white as lily flower.

The holly bears a berry  
As red as any blood.

The holly bears a prickle  
As sharp as any thorn.

The holly bears a bark  
As bitter as any gall.

And O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer...

Good night, all!


	10. Up the Mountain

"_I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by_" - Douglas Adams.

Welcome to _the first half_ of chapter eight of The Sorceress's Heart. This one is humongous, even bigger than the last chapter, so I broke it in half again. The second half should be posted some time in the next few days; it still needs a bit of brushing up.

Harf. I owe everyone who was into this story a large apology. I should never have set a deadline of only one month after I'd posted chapter seven. Had I thought ere I'd spoken, I would have known that there was an awful lot of writing-ahead that was going to be necessary, and that one month wasn't nearly enough time. There's a lot of... you know, _stuff_ that has to happen later on, and I didn't know nearly half of it. I know more now. I don't think I _could_ have known it was going to take as long as it did, though.

One reviewer, MKW, wondered why the story was rated M. I thought about it, and, well, there was really no reason. I rated it M in case there was going to be a reason soon. But so far, there isn't one. So. Rating is T for the moment. Probably not good reading for children, still contains the occasional language.

While my new beta was looking over this first chapter of book two, I tarted up book one a bit. Nothing elaborate; minor corrections, keeping my honorifics pulled up, et cetera. I hope longtime readers will find these earlier chapters improved in a small way.

I won't set myself any deadline for the next chapter. I hate breaking promises, so I won't make any more. But future chapters will appear; never fear, never fear; I think I can promise that much. This story has me by the leg.

Glossary: Kengyu and Orihime: Classic Comix version, star-crossed lovers blah de blah de blah, Altair and Vega meeting across the Milky Way every year, referenced in various animes that I have seen, with my eyes. Google them, already. Sweet story. Enryaku-ji: the Buddhist monastery complex up on Mount Hiei, overlooking the city. Still stands today, still occupied by monks who have protected Kyoto from evil influences for centuries, except for those occasions when the monks took it into their heads to sack the city themselves – I guess defending against evil influences can get pretty nuanced. Woe unto thee O Jerusalem, you bastards, whack, whack. That kind of thing.

* * *

The Sorceress's Heart

BOOK TWO

_Prologue_

Shibumi Keitaro.

Acting Grand Panjandrum of the Saiji, the West Temple of Heian Kyo, just above the southern wall.

Warrior Monk.

Bad Ass.

He sat on his platform, balanced on his pole, legs crossed and arms folded. From his high perch, he stared the length of the rooftop to the east.

The southern wall and the southernmost portion of the City stretched before him in their glory. Above them, in the distance, the gently swelling hills south of Mount Hiei were beginning to glow.

Dawn.

He drew energy from the first sun of the day, as always. His power was birth and newness, revolution, the terror of the old-fashioned and the hidebound. He had been born to poke a stick into the Great Nest of Hornets, and laugh gently when they tried to sting him. His was the first power, the power of the beginning, of the laying of the foundations, of the first move, the first member to push aside the folds, ripe for conquest. The initiative was, in all things, his and his alone.

He quivered with joy atop his pole.

"Good morning, Shibumi-san."

He jumped.

He then sat, unmoving, staring at the beginnings of day-fire on the crinkly horizon. Drawing more energy.

"Shibumi-san?" An impatient tone. Familiar somehow.

When he felt able to pretend that he had not been startled – he had _not_, it was only a twitch, he had slept oddly on his right shoulder – he looked in the direction of the voice.

There wasn't enough light yet to make out details. The shape stood easily on the shingles about two arm's-lengths away down the roof. Tall, straight, unmoving.

"Who disturbs... my meditations?" Shibumi said with portentous calm.

"Ogasawara Sachiko. Dragon."

Shibumi's kundalini opened like an orchid at this.

"Aaaaah," he groaned, with joy. "My beloved. You have come to me at dawn... the perfect time. Our union will crack the very firmament, and our offspring will people the heavens. My wisdom will gather your fiery passions into... a scourge against the lawlessness of your order. You mean to yield to me at last, and hold within yourself... my superlative masculine energy."

There was a brief silence. The eyes of Shibumi's fated bride, just beginning to glitter in the faint light, were fixed on his, malignantly. "I have been meaning to speak to you about your manner, Shibumi-san. Unfortunately it will have to wait, for now. I have more urgent fish to disembowel, debone, pierce with a stick and char evenly over an open fire."

"Why have you come, woman, if not to... open your petals to me?" he said, chuckling.

"My imouto needs... a bath," Ogasawara-future-bride-chin said with labored patience. "I have come... to pay her temple fee."

* * *

VIII. Up the Mountain

_Insanity is the last line of defense for the master bureaucrat... It's difficult to get a refund when the salesman is sniffing your crotch and baying at the moon. – __Dave Sim, _Cerebus the Aardvark

The sun was well up now, and shining full on the magnificent City of Tranquility and Peace.

Nanashi Yumi stood in the street outside the Mountain Lily Inn. Kogamon Avenue was never very busy, and even at this time of the morning there was only the occasional ox-cart. She looked up and down at the houses, mostly pretty modest affairs apart from Ii-dono's somewhat low-rent mansion down near the junction with Fourth Street. It contrasted oddly with the Burnt Grubbly Bits southwards: a ruined block of houses where not much good ever happened, she'd been told. She stood somewhat at an angle, what with the pack on her back – she was used to walking, but not used to having possessions.

This section of street was ravaged with rain puddles from the storm last night and with strange marks, widely different from the usual footprints or wheel-ruts: deep disturbances in the earth, great strips of torn-out mud, and claw-marks looking as if they were made by a giant chicken. This part of Kogamon Avenue had been the arena of a great battle last night. And it had been something even more important, to Yumi. This was where she had learned that Sachiko-sama, her mistress, was willing to put herself to some trouble and risk in order to keep Yumi with her. More than that: that Sachiko-sama would fight for her. More even than that: they had both fought, for each other. Yumi had fought for her mistress, and better than she would have thought she could.

She was happy, but her happiness was tempered, in the morning light, by awareness of too many other recent developments – in the inn behind her, yes, but there was something about the scene before her that was disquieting to her as well, and she was trying to work out what it could be. Somewhere, something was subtly wrong. And there was almost a sense that whatever it was was actively trying to hide from her…

Well, she had already found that she could look at nothing today, including herself, without seeing it in a new way. She was living a new life, and today she was even traveling in a new direction...

_They had gotten to bed very early yesterday evening, she and Sachiko-sama, for they had both been exhausted after the fight with the demon, especially Yumi. This was just as well, as they had spent an odd, interrupted night anyway. Poor Yoshino-san had suffered some sort of attack. Rei-sama came into Sachiko-sama's room, beside herself. Yumi awakened immediately, and helped her shake Sachiko-sama awake. Yumi held Yoshino-san's hand, and assisted Sachiko-sama in odd ways – "put your hand there" and "think this" or "feel that." Yumi did as she was told, assuming that Sachiko-sama would explain things when there was time. _

_Yumi was still half-asleep as all this was happening. She was worried about Yoshino-san, but was having trouble taking things in. She wanted to know what was wrong with her friend, but didn't want to interrupt. But she gathered from the things Sachiko-sama and Rei-sama and Yoshino-san were saying that this was a difficulty Yoshino-san had suffered with all her life, one that usually didn't bother her unless she over-indulged in strenuous activity, such as fighting demons. In those cases it could get bad and even endanger her life. However, Sachiko-sama – or any skilled healer – had ways of calming Yoshino's mad heart. _

_Eventually, when Yoshino-san was breathing better and her color had improved, they were able to go back to bed. But they were unsettled. Yumi's clothing and shoes were by the door of Sachiko-sama's chamber, the same items she had thrown aside in the Imperial Enclosure when she had run away. Yumi just stood there staring at them for what seemed like a long time, and it took Sachiko-sama a few moments to remember that she had given them to Satou-sama, and so Satou-sama must have left them there. Yumi couldn't stop thinking about this, for some reason. She had cast them aside, and here they were, neatly cared for._

_They hadn't really been able to get back to sleep after that, but they had lain together on Sachiko-sama's pallet anyway. Eyes closed, resting. Eyes open, looking at Sachiko-sama, whose eyes were closed. Eyes closed, but knowing that Sachiko-sama's eyes were open, looking at her. Yumi kept opening her eyelids just a crack to see if Sachiko-sama was still looking at her, and one time she opened them just a hair too widely, and Sachiko-sama caught her. And they laughed._

_In the end, Sachiko-sama decided that this was silly, and they weren't going to get any more sleep, and they might as well head downtown to the Saiji so they could have their bath. It would surely be open by the time they got there._

_And it was. The bath didn't take as long as their first bath together two days earlier, but they lingered over it more. Sachiko-sama was in the most hideous temper after coming back from paying Yumi's temple fee – she hadn't said anything, but just the look on her face had been enough to make Yumi quiet and meekly obedient. Once they got down to bathing, however, Sachiko-sama's face smoothed out. Yumi even heard her humming something as she scrubbed Yumi's back. _

_When she had rinsed Yumi's hair, she suddenly put her arms around Yumi and held her close, resting her head on Yumi's shoulder. Yumi felt very happy – and very shy – but she managed to say, "What's wrong, Mistress?" _

_"Nothing," came the reply, slowly. "Yesterday afternoon I was wondering if I would ever wash your hair again. That's all." _

_Yumi leaned back into Sachiko-sama, leaned her head against Sachiko-sama's head, and closed her eyes. _

_Soaking in the tub, they sat close together, Sachiko-sama with an arm around Yumi's shoulders. Yumi watched the steam rising off the water, her legs stretched out alongside Sachiko-sama's legs. They were her legs and feet – cleaner than she was used to seeing them, but definitely hers. Yet somehow they looked different, next to Sachiko-sama's. The warmth and the steam and the nearness of Sachiko-sama all conspired to make Yumi a bit giddy. She wondered whose legs these were, if not her own. Then she wondered who _she_ was. _

_Then Sachiko-sama spoke, and this fancy went the way of the steam – rising away, yet hovering about their heads. _

_"A demon, Yumi." _

_Was that a statement or a question? It sounded like a statement, but it was a subject she felt fairly sure Sachiko-sama _would_ have questions about. Then she thought it might be more in the nature of a command –_ We will now discuss the demon._ Perhaps. Perhaps it was all three. _

_"Yumi?" _

I'm taking too long to think_, Yumi realized. She still wasn't sure how to respond, so she tried simple confirmation. "It was, Mistress."_

_"Yes. It was." _

_More silence; more steam. _

_"I don't want to push you, Yumi. But this is a matter of some importance. I have questions. Fujiwara-dono and my fellow Dragons will also have questions... It was chasing you. It was really chasing me, or so it said, but it knew that chasing you was the best way of getting me. It knew us both, intimately as it seemed to me. How did it come by this knowledge?" _

_"I would give you answers if I had them, Mistress –" Yumi felt tears threatening. _

_She felt Sachiko-sama's arm squeeze her shoulders; she felt Sachiko-sama's cheek brush her forehead. _

_"You don't remember?" _

_"I remember some things, but I don't remember enough to understand... Mistress, I wish I could tell you what it was like, my life before I met you. I wandered from place to place. I begged for my food, and stole it when I had to. There were shadows everywhere. Demons in the shadows. There were dreams when I slept, and nightmares, and sometimes I'd remember things, horrible things, and I wasn't sure if they'd really happened, or I'd dreamt them. A nightmare demon could kill me as easily as a waking demon, it seemed; they were one and the same –"_ _Yumi was crying now, and her breath was hitching. She was angry with herself. She needed to be stronger than this –_

_But then she was being cuddled, and her hair was being stroked, and soon she felt calmer. And stronger._

_"When I met you, Mistress, it was the best dream I'd ever had. And I woke up in the morning, and the dream was still going on. So – oh, I was so stupid." _

_"Yumi –" _

_"I thought I could escape from the demons, by being with you. But I was leading them to you –" _

_"Yumi, it's all right." _

_There was a pause, in which Yumi searched for words to convey her shame and sorrow. But Sachiko-sama put a finger to her lips, and Yumi gave up the search. _

_"We have dealt with that," Sachiko-sama said. "I am satisfied that you concealed nothing from me. You only refrained from attempting explanations of things you did not yourself understand... and I know about the confusion between dream and waking; it is a country I walk in daily..."_

_Yumi believed Sachiko-sama. The sorceresses all seemed to have a little of that, especially Fujiwara-dono._

_"Yumi, you told me that first night that you wanted to stay with me. You told me, last night, that you would not leave me. Is it still true? Do you still want to stay with me?" _

_"Yes. Yes, Mistress."_ More than anything. Please –

_"Then_ stay_." There was a smile in Sachiko-sama's voice. Yumi now looked her in the face. She wanted to see that smile. The attachment was there: in her eyes, and in her gentle touch on Yumi's shoulders; if Yumi cast her mind back, it was also in the way Sachiko-sama had held Yumi as they had drifted toward sleep last night, and in the way she had fought for Yumi like one possessed. _

_"I_ will _fight for you, if I must," Sachiko-sama said, as if she'd heard Yumi's thoughts. "Will you fight for me at need, as you did last night?" _

_"Yes!" _

_"Then there's no more to say about that. The rest, we can work on."_

_More silence. Warmth and closeness. The steam made everything indistinct except Sachiko-sama. _

_"We must be careful of one another." _

_"Mistress?" _

_"You must be careful of me, Yumi. Leaving the way you did – it hurt me." _

_Yumi couldn't say anything. _

_"But I must likewise be careful of you. I have to make sure I don't give you reason to want to leave." _

_"I didn't want to leave." _

_Sachiko-sama looked at her then. _

_"Mistress," Yumi added belatedly. _

_Sachiko-sama shook her head with a faint smile, and waited. _

_"I left because I realized I was a danger to you. You were right about that... I should have talked to you before I left. _

_The look continued. _

_"But Mistress, if I'd talked to you, I wouldn't have been able to leave." _

_"It's sweet of you to say so." Sachiko-sama squeezed Yumi gently again, and Yumi rested her head on Sachiko-sama's shoulder. _

_"You are important to me, Yumi. I'm only just realizing... am I important to you?" _

_"Yes, Mistress." A simple yes was a pathetically lame answer, next to Yumi's true feelings, but Yumi lacked the eloquence to convey anything more. _

_"We must talk to one another. About important things – and there are a great many important things to talk about, it seems. But we must also talk about silly, unimportant things. We must know one another, Yumi. We will be spending quite a lot of time together, and we must know one another as well as is possible." _

_Yumi felt a familiar sadness at these words. "There isn't very much to know about me, Mistress." _

_Sachiko-sama gave her an enigmatic look, at this. "I suspect you're wrong about that..." _

_Back at the Mountain Lily Inn, Yumi had excused herself from her mistress, who was taking a last-minute look around the room to see if there was anything else that absolutely had to come with them. Yumi had gone out into the common room, and turned to her right. _

_The situation was tense in the room Yoshino-san and Rei-sama shared; when Yumi peered around the door-frame, Rei-sama was trying to finish packing for the journey, Yoshino-san kept interrupting her, and a girl Yumi didn't know kept looking from one to the other in a lost way. "So I'll stay," Yoshino-san shrilled, "I'll stay in this hole and chew twigs until you come back. But if I have to stay, why can't you stay too?" _

_"You_ know_," Rei-sama said with great weariness. "Fujiwara-dono – my duty as a swordhand – I'm a Dragon, Yoshino, don't you understand? This is for the Order –" Rei-sama was trying to tie a number of small packs together in one big pack and talk to Yoshino-san at the same time. She wasn't doing either very well. _

_Yumi came all the way into the room and knelt at Yoshino-san's side. _

_She wondered if she should have come in. She wondered if she should leave right now. She would have, if not for the fact that she had to leave soon and she wouldn't see Yoshino-san again for weeks. Yoshino-san seemed to be caught between two fires now. She couldn't ignore Yumi, especially since they hadn't been able to really talk since Yumi's safe return. And the driving force of her passions required her to continue to hound her beloved Rei-sama. But Yoshino-san changed the direction of her thoughts, for Yumi's sake. Yumi watched her do it, and felt ashamed. _

_"Good morning, Yumi-san."_

_"Good morning, Yoshino-san. I am sorry to disturb you..." _

_Rei-sama, at least, did not seem to resent the interruption; she immediately took it as an opportunity to finish consolidating her baggage. _

_"I hope you enjoy the Questioning, Yumi-san. I really wish I was going with you. Be careful, though. It can be – well,_ you _know it can be dangerous out there." _

_"Yes. I wish you were coming too, Yoshino-san. I wondered..." _

_"Yes?" _

_"Well... last night, you... you helped fight the demon, for my sake. And now you're ill. I just wanted to make sure..." _

_"Oh. Yumi-san, you're worried that this is your fault?" _

_Yumi just nodded. _

_Yoshino-san took Yumi's hand. "Don't think that. It will require the deepest magic to heal me. I'm just about old enough now for it to be done – it would certainly have killed me just one year ago. Even with me grown enough – and even for Fujiwara-dono – it will be difficult and draining work. So it was thought best to leave it till after the Questioning. I was going to have to stay behind anyway."_

_As soon as this was out of her mouth, Yoshino-san seemed terribly annoyed again, and she was looking resolutely at her feet. _

_"Charming," Rei-sama said. Her things were assembled at last and slung over one shoulder. _

_Yoshino-san said nothing. _

_"To hear you so easily confess to Yumi-chan what I've been trying to get you to accept for weeks now, I mean," Rei-sama went on. "So I haven't been bashing my head against a granite cliff-face for nothing. Very heartening." Rei-sama's head was high, but her mouth was grim. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at Yoshino-san. _

_"I don't want you to leave me," Yoshino-san said. She sounded like she had just managed to stop herself screaming it. Had she not been clutching Yumi's hand so desperately, Yumi would have attempted a polite withdrawal. _

_Rei-sama flung her bags back to the floor. They bounced but stayed tied. She was shaking with passion, but her voice was still controlled, if a little louder than normal, "I don't want to leave you either! I am doing so at Fujiwara-dono's order and there is_ nothing else on earth _that could make me do it!" _

_There was silence, then, one of those silences that seems to go on forever. Rei-sama and Yoshino-san were both crying, and so was the girl whose name Yumi didn't know –_

"Is something the matter, Yumi?"

"No, Mistress. I'm all right!" Yumi said, turning. There was her Mistress coming out the entrance of the Mountain Lily Inn, resplendent in the white robe and hakama with the red sash which were the official uniform of the Dragon Order – insofar as the Dragon Order bothered with an official uniform, that was; the departure on Questioning was an important occasion.

"Sorry to disappear like that; I had to talk to Miyo-san about something. Oh, dear. This is a bit of a mess, isn't it?" Sachiko-sama surveyed the scene of last night's battle with a half-smile that belied her words. "Oh!" she added, looking at the particular area where they were standing. "Isn't this the exact spot we were in last night? When I found the thread?"

"I think so, Mistress." It was. Yumi looked at the ground too. She still remembered how she'd felt in that moment, seeing the thread dissolve in Sachiko-sama's hands. How had Sachiko-sama found it... should she ask?

"I still don't know how I found it," Sachiko-sama said, making Yumi jump a little. "I was looking for it, but without really knowing what I was looking for. It seemed to fall into my hands, almost..." There seemed to be a question in Sachiko-sama's eyes, as she looked at Yumi. But the moment passed quite quickly – "Oh, we'd better be going. There are one or two people I'm hoping to talk to before we start. Come along, then." Sachiko-sama half-turned, offering Yumi one arm. Yumi ran to her side, accepting the offer quickly.

Then Yumi gasped, and stopped.

For a moment, Sachiko-sama was attempting to drag a suddenly motionless imouto. Then she stopped, and looked at Yumi questioningly. Yumi's attention had been riveted by – and now, after a moment of stillness, she was walking toward – the empty house on the other side of the street, and toward the slightly bent wooden pillar Sachiko-sama had bounced off of the previous evening when the Demon had thrown her. Close up, Yumi was looking up slightly at the thing that had caught her attention.

Sachiko-sama, right behind her, said, "What is it, Yumi? What is the matter?"

Yumi pointed.

There was a hole in the pillar, about two handspans above eye-level. A bit of cracked, yellowed enamel poked out of it.

Sachiko-sama stared at it for a moment, evidently not sure what it was, and yet also thinking she ought to know, and not sure why Yumi was so startled by it – and then memory did its trick. "The Demon's tooth," she said.

"From when you slapped it, Mistress," Yumi said.

"I think you're right..." Sachiko-sama stared at it a bit more. "Well. Thank goodness it didn't hit anybody. Odd that it hit this particular pillar, though..."

Yumi reached for the tooth.

Sachiko-sama caught her hand gently. "Yumi!"

"We can't just leave it here, Mistress." Yumi felt this very strongly.

Sachiko-sama looked at her speculatively. "You're probably right... Here. Put your hand on my arm here, near my wrist."

Yumi obeyed.

"Now... the feeling you had last night. What was in your heart and mind when you were summoning the water-creature to help me? Can you recapture that feeling?"

"Yes, Mistress," Yumi answered, looking into Sachiko-sama's eyes.

"Then do so."

Yumi did. _You must not damage my beautiful priceless Mistress, you horrible old SLUG…_

There was warmth. Sachiko-sama moved her hand to the tooth, Yumi's hand on her arm following after. Yumi couldn't even see clearly whether Sachiko-sama's hand touched the tooth. But the tooth shifted in its hole, like a bit of ice melting over a grate as warm water ran over it; then it crumbled, into chunks, then pebbles, tumbling, then sifting down in fine grains, then a smear of yellowy dust on the wood beneath the hole. And then even the stain was gone.

Yumi fancied she'd heard a very faint distant scream, but the wind sometimes made odd sounds, blowing through the timbers of ruined buildings in the City of the Right...

"All right?" Sachiko-sama said. "You look a little pale." She clasped Yumi's helping hand.

"I'm well, Mistress," Yumi said. "I just hope it really is dead."

Sachiko-sama put a hand to Yumi's cheek. Yumi felt her face get a little hot, but kept looking Sachiko-sama in the eye.

"You fought so bravely for me last night," Sachiko-sama said. "My warrior..."

Yumi was still uncertain about most things, but the hand on her face and the mind and heart that moved it were her certainty. Her mind was a jumbled basket now of knick-knacks, odds and ends, and she put things together haphazardly for the moment. She put Sachiko-sama's gentle determination as they had spoken in the bath together with her clothes sitting by their door in the morning, with all of them at Yoshino-san's bedside, with the question of who she was when she wandered alone, and who she was when her legs nestled next to Sachiko-sama's in the bath, and could both Yumis really be the same person? The one was frantic, looking to and fro like a doomed bird, reaching behind the next mountain for safety, and the next, and the next, with shadows always at her heels; the other was warm, safe, at peace, and able to track down a demon's tooth for her mistress. She could reconcile the two, with Sachiko-sama to help her – if not her, then who? It was only that in this gentle quiet, with this protecting arm around her, that she had the leisure, the time to _think_, and there was suddenly too much to think about and not enough hard matter to bring the thinking to any conclusion –

_"The rest, we can work on."_

Well. She would gladly take Sachiko-sama at her word.

* * *

Third Street, just west of the junction with Nishiomiya Avenue, was filled with girls and young women. They were in that excited, excitable, slightly ill-tempered condition you find in large groups of people who are about to set out on an expedition of any kind. At the same time it had the air of a garden party, where people stood chatting in twos and threes - or fours and sixes, since famulae and sorores were often attending upon their mistresses.

A variety of moods was represented. Some found the Questioning interesting but a bit of a horror, as it involved leaving Heian Kyo – deliberately turning one's back on the world's center for the decidedly déclassé thrill of sleeping under trees, on mountains, or in the Old Night, communing with crickets and monsters. So while there was overexcitement in all conversations, in some it had a sort of hysterical edge, as of extreme reluctance. In others, it was strong anticipation, an eagerness for the open road. The Mountain Lily contingent set the tone here, as in so many things – even the juniors, as they took their cues from their mistresses.

But most sentiments were more in agreement with Oe Hikaru, who was chairing a stand-up symposium on the subject of how tiresome all this was, really. She and her circle were at the centre of this, girls who were likelier to have adorned the simple Guild robes with a dash of pattern, with a scarf or a light undercloak or a sash of some sort – and likelier to have their hair unbound and long, court-style. These were girls who had _fled_ to the Guild from some undesirable circumstance, rather than coming to the Guild because it was what they really wanted, and if any of them were still wearing Guild robes a year hence it would be a miracle, or the result of a profound personal revolution.

And with some, it was more vague, and you couldn't really tell whether they fell to one side of the line or the other. Three of them in particular: three novices, fresh-caught famulae Rats, their robes white, their hair new-styled, and their arms linked, were almost bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings singing, screaming, sneaking up on their brand-new mistresses, and being scolded for noise. Rebuked, they slunk up the street a ways toward the Guild Offices, comforting one another, and then squealed anew when they were accosted by Satou Sei, in a disreputable old foreign-looking grey cloak and high leather boots, putting her arms around them, shouting "Climb on into my pack, my lovelies, and travel with me! Let me keep you warm!" They fled her, giggling, to the Guild entrance where they bought food from Tomiko the Crab, a former sorceress now in her fifties, who ran a food stall just to the right of the door. She was a retired housewife whose husband was dead and children grown, and her manner of dress was something between that of a sorceress's split-hakama style and that of an untidy field laborer. She sold hot food: barbecued eel, octopus, quail with mushrooms, grilled vegetables, and steamed Chinese dumplings, but she also urged on them packs of her special trail-rations: twice cooked food, sweet crackers, and dried fish spiced to various tastes. "The regular dried fish the Guild gives you, that'll keep you going, but you'll be precious bored with it after a few weeks! Take it from me, girls, I know."

Some distance above the Crab's food cart and the Guild entrance, in her office on the third floor, Fujiwara Akiko was saying, "It was falling down anyway, Suga-san."

"Fujiwara-dono, it's the _Rasho Mon_. Yes, it was falling down, but now it's fallen for good, and there are too many witnesses as to _why_. The City is a-buzz with it this morning: a demon was among us last night."

Akiko sat on a mat, facing her verandah. She was putting together a last-minute bag of tricks. She had what her superiors – back when she'd had superiors – had always regarded as a childish attachment to street-witch trickery involving herbs and roots and interestingly-shaped stones. She had always insisted that it was a simple hobby, and one that did not detract from her more important studies. She had known better than to claim that such things _aided_ her studies, but she felt that in some ways they had. She smiled happily at her newest acquisition: the crystal that Tsujimoto fellow had used on poor Yumi-kun yesterday. She had gone back to the garden later and hunted around among the pebbles and stones until she'd found it. A genuine crystal used by a genuine street witch. It still had some virtue in it, and, most interestingly, it was capable of being re-infused, with new energy!...

Suga-san stood behind her and to her left. Akiko didn't have to see her lieutenant to know what the expression on her face was. Suga-san was greatly annoyed. Suga-san was generally annoyed about something or other. Heigh-ho.

"A great many people are simply terrified," Suga-san went on, "and are debating moving, except that of course this is where Civilization is kept, so they are unlikely to do so. Lord Minamoto Taro is simply furious – his home on Red Bird Avenue has been rendered unfit for humans to live in! He claims the demon threw lightning at it, and then _shat_ on it –"

"The demon didn't throw the lightning," Akiko said patiently. She had decided at last on the best array of items to accompany her on her travels, and was now putting them in a little leathern bag which had some most curious properties of its own, including an utter immunity to damp, and besides that – oh, she would never breathe a word of _besides that_ to another living soul. "The lightning was natural. I saw it from the air. The demon _was_ responsible for the house being shat on, only it wasn't excrement, just mud and water – oh, and probably some ox shit and some horse shit; you know what our streets are. But it was not a willful defecation on the part of the demon. Minamoto-san must not give way to paranoia. The demon hit a big puddle, that's all. And Minamoto-san ought to be thankful for the mud; it put the fire out. The rain might have done the trick, or it might not –"

"You think Minamoto-dono should _thank_ the demon?"

"I really must ask, Suga-san, not to be importuned on the subject of what Minamoto-san should do. I have some ideas, that way, but they are not for public consumption. The arrogant little fart. You have offered to pay for repairs, have you not?"

"Not repairs. Rebuilding."

"Rebuilding, then."

"It'll be awfully expensive. I don't know if the Guild accounts can cover it." Suga-san had gone all prim, as she usually did when the subject of money came up. Mouth in a tight line, hands clasped before her.

"Tell him to rebuild, and when he finds out the total cost, to bill us. If he needs starter funds, accommodate him. I'll supplement the Guild accounts from my own private funds, if necessary. Placate him. I would do it myself, but I'm due to appear in the street below in a few minutes, say 'Follow, you insolent pampered young cretins,' and lead our girls away into the terrible wilds. It's a quaint custom we have in the Guild; you may remember it."

"A _few_, Fujiwara-dono, are doing more than cowering fearfully," Suga-san said aggressively. "A _few_ have some idea of the protections you put on the City. And they wonder how a demon managed to get in, in spite of –"

"Didn't you tell them?"

Suga-san's mouth closed in a thin line.

"You can tell them if you want to, Suga-san. I never said you couldn't."

"There would be panic!"

"And we could have it over, and move on to something else... My protections won't keep out the strongest demons, but I did dreadful things to a few of them and they stay away anyway – or if they do come in, they walk on plovers' eggs the whole time they're here. I have no problem with that being public knowledge, Suga-san." Akiko glared out through the open shutter at the bright blue sky, irritably pensive. "The thing that does embarrass me is that I haven't yet figured out a way of fireproofing wood. Not a cost-effective way, anyhow. One lit taper can be more dangerous to this city than all the demons ever spawned..." She shook her head. "Anyway, the demon was killed. By one of my _students_!" Akiko allowed herself a moment to gloat. She was prodigiously proud of Ogasawara-kun. "By Heaven, I knew the girl had it in her. She had help, but even so –"

"Nevertheless," Suga-san interrupted in a cold voice, "your reputation is somewhat blown upon, Fujiwara-dono. Whether they are right to blow upon it is not the issue. They _have_. What would you?"

Akiko stood carefully, turned and gave Suga-san as neutral a look as she could manage. She would have put up with this schoolmistressing from no lesser person, and there were days when she might have found it almost unbearable even from Suga-san. But a good fight always set her up splendidly, and last night had been restorative in other ways as well.

Envy ate at Suga-san. Envy was not the mainspring of her, the winding-key of her very being, but it was behind much that she did. Akiko had always ranked higher than she, both in the Guild and in Society – such quarters of Society as would have _any_ dealings with sorceresses, that was. To envy her this was extremely silly of Suga-san. The fact was that Akiko was simply older than she – at least twice her age, and Suga-san would never see fifty again – and Akiko had been a great-aunt and childhood fixture to the last six or seven emperors in succession, an even more potent fact. If that ranking, that supreme respect, were only due to Fujiwara-dono's age and to her having been born in the high snows of the social mountain, whereas Suga-san had been obliged to struggle up from the foothills, then it might not be as powerfully purplish-green a case of envy as it was...

...but even that envy wasn't as strong as Suga-san's unspoken yet unmistakable vexation over the fact that she had not been notified of the demon's presence last night. Akiko and her Mountain Lily girls had dealt with it among themselves, and Suga-san had not received so much as a memorandum.

_That was my mistake. Nevertheless, I haven't time for this now._

"As for my reputation, Suga-san," she said, a whole flock of familiar thoughts having flown in formation through her mind, gone hard about, and out the back of her head again, "as for my reputation, it has got where it is, over time, without my giving it any particular thought. And I see no reason to change a winning system. I bid you good morning. We should be back by the beginning of the fifth month, as usual."

* * *

In the street below, Yumi was saying to Sachiko, "I was wondering, Mistress – you seemed awfully angry earlier..."

"Angry, Yumi?" Sachiko was a bit distracted. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Sei-san this morning, and had been hoping for a word with her before they started – Sei-san had agreed to help her with magical protections for her charge, the egg, while they were on the road, and so she had been scanning the crowd, so far without luck.

"When you came back from paying my fee. Your eyes were terrible and you didn't speak for a while." Yumi looked down. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not, Mistress."

Sachiko looked at Yumi, and sighed. Dealing with that self-delighted ass Shibumi _had_ put her in a foul mood – it was not so much that he didn't understand the word "no" as that he didn't seem to hear it at all. One day he was going to push her too far, and... and... she didn't know _what_ she was going to do, but it would be as awful a thing as she could think of on the spur of the moment, when it came. "I'm sorry, Yumi," she said. "The man I talked to about the fee is rather a fool, and he made me angry, that's all. I'm sorry if I worried you."

"It's all right, Mistress." Yumi was looking at her again with those lovely deep eyes of hers. "I was only wondering if there was anything I could do."

Sachiko smiled. _Just a polite request, probably, but why does it make me so happy?_ She held herself back from touching Yumi's face again. It had been a pleasure, earlier, to see how Yumi's cheeks flushed at the touch. But she needed to be businesslike, here. "We do need to talk, Yumi."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"As I warned you earlier, there will be questions today. About your past."

Yumi looked down.

"I'm sorry, Yumi," Sachiko said, gently. "I know that you are uneasy on this subject."

"I don't have a past," Yumi said. A low, quiet, unaffected voice of pure misery. "I'm nobody, I'm nothing..."

Sachiko felt a stab of anger. "That's _nonsense_. You are Yumi. You are my imouto. You are precious to me. And you must have come from somewhere, even if you –" She broke off. There was too much emotion crowding into her voice. Her hands were on Yumi's shoulders. She allowed herself only a gentle squeeze of reassurance as she removed them. "Fujiwara-dono will insist on knowing everything you know, and everything you can remember."

"Is this... another test, Mistress?"

Something had happened to Yumi. She was looking Sachiko in the eye now, and her jaw was set.

Sachiko smiled. "It might help you to think of it that way. But... not as a test I'm setting for you. The _world_ is setting it for you, and I am at your side in this. I will help you in anything I can... against demons, and against the past. Remember this."

"Yes, Mistress," Yumi said.

They just stood there, looking at each other. Sachiko had started by looking at Yumi's face for signs of how she was feeling, and had been sidetracked by the gentle absorption of Yumi's eyes in hers, and was now thinking only of how adorable this face was, and how she would like to touch it, and hold Yumi again, as she had in the bath that morning –

– and then Satou Sei-san landed on Yumi's back.

"Glaaah!" Yumi commented.

"Give you good day then, Yumi Fleet-foot! What a pleasure to land on you, in such fine weather!"

"Aaaiigh! Satou-sama –"

"Satou-san."

"You are needed for a conference, my heart," Satou-san whispered loudly into a flustered Yumi's ear. "A _very important conference,_ in the councils of the wise... Oh, good morning, Sachiko my old frog. You can come too, I suppose –"

"Satou-samaaaa!"

"Satou-san."

"– though I don't know how much your actual contribution will be required, but we couldn't very well ask your imouto and not ask you, could we? –"

"Satou-san!"

Satou-san's face became odiously solicitous. "Something amiss, sweet Sachiko? You're looking a bit irked."

"Will you please get off of Yumi?"

"Oh!" Sei-san flashed her wicked teeth. "Well, if you insist. Remarkable noises she makes, though; I was rather enjoying it." She moved back and shifted a bit, but one arm stayed around Yumi's shoulders "Look, this isn't till later, when we're on the road. The three of us, plus Youko, with Fujiwara-dono presiding."

"You haven't got off her yet." Sachiko had folded her arms, and was glaring at Sei-san.

"Fussy, fussy!" The imp lifted the arm off of Yumi, and held her hands up. "What, are you a girl in your father's garden, and no other may touch your doll?" (Sachiko felt a spurt of real anger at this, but controlled it.) "Oh, what a show this Questioning'll be. Any gate, Fujiwara-dono will help you remember, Yumi, but she wants you to be thinking about it, and going back in your mind as far as you can."

"Is she going to force me to remember?" Yumi seemed nervous.

"Oh no," Sachiko said. "You don't force people to remember things, or think of things. That'll break the lock on the mind and the mind as well, or it'll twist the lock and make it impossible to open. You don't force remembrance, you more sort of encourage it. You –" Sachiko broke off. Satou-san and Yumi were both staring at her, Yumi intent and worshipful, Satou-san with raised eyebrows. Satou-san had lowered her arm gently back onto Yumi's shoulder at some point, Sachiko noticed, and ground her teeth a bit.

"That's pretty advanced magic, Sachiko," Satou-san said. "I haven't even started learning it yet. I don't think Youko has either..."

"Fujiwara-dono was explaining it to me the other day," Sachiko said, still staring at Satou-san's arm. "I doubt I could _do_ it, from her explanation. Anyway, Satou-san, consider the message delivered. When are we to join you?"

"After lunch. When we resume the march, you'll come to us."

"Very well, Satou-san." _The arm._ Sachiko kept her eyes on it until Satou-san removed it at last, with another grin.

* * *

Noriko approached Rei-sama with some trepidation. The most warlike of the Dragons appeared to be in a most warlike mood this morning. Usually, it was Rei-sama who approached her, and she worried about seeming over-familiar – though after yesterday, it seemed to her – but she didn't want to take advantage –

_Anyway_.

She held her back straight, and her head high, and walked up to her. "Good morning, Rei-sama."

Rei-sama's face eased at the sight of her. "Good morning, Noriko-chan. Thanks again for your help yesterday. I was such a mess, and I'm sorry for all the trouble you had with me."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Rei-sama... Anyway... I was wondering if – well, what we talked about some days past –"

"Your being my acting soror mystica, for the duration of the Questioning? Yes, Noriko, would you? I managed to get Yoshino to stay behind..." Noriko had known Rei-sama was going to try this, but hadn't really expected her to succeed. Her astonishment must have shown in her face, for Rei-sama immediately followed up with, "Well, truth to tell, she had a bit of an attack last night. Too much excitement." Rei-sama, it suddenly occurred to Noriko, seemed thoroughly miserable. She hadn't noticed it before because of the ramrod posture and the game face, but her eyes were a bit wet and she kept rubbing the back of her head. "I managed to get Sachiko awake; a bit of a heavy sleeper, Sachiko... I'm not much use as a healer myself, I'm afraid. Anyway, Sachiko got Yoshino's body to behave a bit, got her so she could rest comfortably, but told her in no uncertain terms that she was to stay behind as I'd said – "I can't answer for your condition if you subject yourself to stress again so soon" – you know how Sachiko can Tell You Something, when she wants to. So. There we are."

Noriko wondered. She wouldn't have thought that even Sachiko-sama could tame that blade, though if anybody could... "Is that why you were looking so, well, grim, when I came up to you?"

"Yes. On the nail, Noriko. Difficult conversations with Yoshino. A series of them..." Rei-sama a bit wild-eyed, here. Looking at things that weren't there. "So. You don't have a mistress yet."

Noriko shook her head.

"That's such a mystery, Noriko. You're adorable. If I didn't already have Yoshino, I'd be grabbing for you."

Noriko blushed. "You shouldn't say things like that, Rei-sama." She peered around them.

"You're not _embarrassed_, Noriko?" Rei-sama seemed disbelieving.

"No. Terrified. If it gets back to Yoshino-san that you said that, we're both for the chop."

"Oh, nonsense. But isn't there anybody you'd like for a mistress?"

"Yes. But it's impossible. Never mind, Rei-sama. You'd think I was a fool."

"I'll bet I wouldn't. Fool is the last word to come to mind, when I think on you. But you keep your own counsel, Noriko." Rei-sama smiled, bravely, but wearily. Noriko wanted to comfort her, but she couldn't help but notice that their sisters, in the separate conversations happening all around them, nevertheless kept shifting their eyes to her and Rei-sama. Very noticing eyes.

One pair of eyes, approaching rapidly, belonged to Eriko the Black, who put a hand on Rei-sama's shoulder. "Good morning, Rei."

Rei-sama turned, and now there were tears in her eyes. "Mistress –"

Eriko-sama embraced her former soror gently. "I'm sorry Yoshino has to stay behind. The two of you haven't half talked things out, have you?"

"No, we haven't. The timing of all this is very poor... And I don't understand why Fujiwara-dono thought that Mayuko-san would be a good one to leave with Yoshino. The girl is a milksop. Yoshino will be chewing on her bone-marrow by suppertime –"

"Rei, Rei, Rei," Eriko-sama tisked. "Do you remember all the times you thought Fujiwara-dono _had_ to be wrong, and she turned out to be exactly right?"

Rei-sama sighed. "You're right. Ah, well. I've no choice but to trust her anyway."

Noriko wasn't sure whether she should stay or go. But she felt sure that Eriko the Black would dismiss her at any moment anyway, and she felt it would be more dignified to take her leave first. "Well, Rei-sama –"

"Who is this adorable creature?" Eriko-sama said with a sudden smile right into Noriko's eyes. Noriko's knees wobbled a little.

"This is Nijo Noriko, Eriko-sama," Rei said. "Noriko accompanied me on the search for Yumi-chan yesterday –"

"Oh, _yes_, you were with us at the crunch, too, weren't you?" Eriko-sama said delightedly. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, Noriko-chan."

"Oh, I was all over mud... it was dark," Noriko said happily, a bit dazed by the glory that was Eriko-sama. _A very pleasant person –_

"Noriko really helped me yesterday, Eriko-sama," Rei-sama went on. "I was in a sad state, and she kept me moving. She's agreed to be my soror mystica pro tempore."

"How adorably delightful of her!"

"Come to think of it – you have to have a soror to come on the Questioning too, don't you, Eriko-sama?" Rei-sama added.

"Oh, that's all right. I found one before breakfast."

Noriko boggled. "Really?"

"Fast work, Eriko-sama," Rei-sama said, smiling.

"Rikki?" Eriko-sama said, to thin air, as far as Noriko could tell.

_But I know that name..._

And its owner, a thin, somewhat unkempt girl, in tatty robes and with an unruly short haircut, stepped out from behind Eriko-sama. She wasn't looking at anyone or anything.

"Oh, good morning, Rikki-chan," Rei-sama said, in tones of mild surprise.

"You are acquainted?" Eriko-sama said to Rei-sama, in similar tones.

"The Guild is a small world, Eriko-sama. Rikki-chan is one of several girls I'm training as a swordhand."

"Really!" Eriko-sama addressed her taciturn new acquisition. "And do you have talent, Rikki?"

Rikki-san mumbled something, in a gruff voice, and turned away toward the wall of the Guild Offices.

This was shockingly rude behavior, and Noriko would have been shocked if she hadn't seen it several times before. Rikki-san was just like that. She was a peasant, but that alone was not explanation enough; Noriko knew some very good-natured and polite peasant-sorceresses. Rikki-san wasn't _ill_-natured – people usually assumed that, but Noriko knew better. Rikki-san just didn't function well in social groupings of more than two people, and she didn't care for being put on the spot. This had held her back. She had been in the Guild longer than Yoshino-san, who had made Ox-level not long ago, but was still Rat-level herself. She'd had a mistress for a time, but that relationship had ended in shameful circumstances – _apparently_; none of the parties concerned would discuss the subject, so everyone else was left to wonder about the details – and the older girl had since left the Guild to get married.

Rikki-san had stayed, seemingly without hope, but with no inclination to move on. She was a bit mysterious; people tended to shun her, and some of the sillier ones whispered that she was unlucky. Whenever a new Dragon was looking for a soror or even a famula, Rikki-san never seemed to be even a possibility in anyone's mind... until now. And now, Noriko had a feeling that Rikki-san's wandering, ill-tended career had come to a sudden end, and she was about to be horribly murdered by Eriko the Black –

But Eriko-sama just smiled and touched Rikki-san's hair briefly. "That's all right, Rikki," she said softly. "In your own time."

Rikki-san didn't move, or look at Eriko-sama. But Noriko could see a bit of her cheek, and it was _pink_ – oh, she had to pretend she'd never seen that.

Eriko-sama turned back to Rei-sama. "I have to discuss something with Youko. Let's talk later, Rei. We haven't really had time to catch up."

Rei-sama nodded. "I'm sorry, Eriko-sama, if things didn't work out... for you, I mean... but, well, I'm very happy you've come back to the Guild. We've all missed you. I've missed you especially."

"Thank you, Rei..." Eriko smiled happily, and kissed Rei's cheek. "And it was nice meeting you, Noriko-chan. You and I will talk too, I'm sure." So saying, she turned and walked away.

Rikki-san went docilely at her side.

"There were several girls in need of a mistress, this morning," Noriko said musingly. "And a few of them are cute. How in the world did Eriko-sama settle on that one? I'm glad she did – happy for Rikki-san! But I don't understand it."

Rei-sama, still smiling at Eriko-sama's retreating back, said, "That's her way. She's fond of painting flowers, you know. She'd have a bowl of flowers all of one kind in front of her, and you'd look at her painting of it, and it'd be perfect except she's painted _one_ out-of-place flower, among the others – an unusual kind she'd seen somewhere – or a sprig of weeds – or once it was a black flower with a broken stem, dripping blood on the table. She was in a bad mood that day. She's attracted to unusual things, people, creatures. I was about the most unusual creature in the Guild, the year I arrived – I was already taller than most of the Dragons, including Eriko-sama – and I thought I'd never find a mistress. I thought that for about a quarter of an hour, and then there was Eriko-sama, staring me in the face... I'm glad she's taken Rikki-chan into her garden. Rikki-chan badly needs cultivation."

Noriko looked at her temporary mistress with a wild surmise. "Rei-sama... you _knew_ Eriko-sama was going to choose Rikki-san. Didn't you?"

Rei-sama smiled at her. "Can't get anything past you, Noriko! I was pretty sure. I might have tried steering her toward Rikki-chan, if I was in doubt, but Eriko-sama's not one for being guided; she's more the guiding kind. Shall we –" She broke off. She had looked back to where Eriko-sama had gone, and was now staring.

There was a curious confrontation taking place. A tall man, good-looking if a bit dishevelled and stubbly, was facing off with Eriko the Black, up the street. They were just looking at each other. He was standing there, in the street, surrounded by sorceresses. Noriko couldn't put her finger on just what was strange about this...

Eriko-sama was looking back at him calmly. And Rikki-san was looking back and forth between the two of them, obviously mystified.

Noriko and Rei-sama, without prior consultation, started to sidle closer to them. Nonchalantly. _Rei-sama will grab him,_ Noriko thought, _and I'll start kicking his ankles._

"I miss you," the man was saying, when they came in earshot.

"I imagine I'll miss you too, eventually," Eriko-sama replied. "It will take more than a few days."

"Ah." The man looked down. "I see."

Eriko-sama put her hands on her hips and stamped one foot, her eyes flashing, and the sorceresses nearest to her moved off, with almost unseemly haste. One Dragon actually took her soror in her arms and carried her bodily away, _onee-samaaaaa –_ "What would you, Yamanobe-san? Married life was difficult for you, and intolerable for me –"

"I thought you wanted to get married – more than anything!" Yamanobe-san was looking at Eriko-sama again. His eyes hinted at a confused stew of emotions that made Noriko ache a bit to look at.

"I thought so too," Eriko-sama said calmly. "I really did. Well, well. It appears I was wrong about that. Who would have thought it? Would you like an apology? Well, then. I am sorry, Yamanobe-san."

He looked at her. He nodded once. Then he looked some more, then nodded twice. Then he said, "You're right, Eriko-san. You're probably right. I'm sorry to have troubled you. If you – but, perhaps not. Never mind it." He seemed as thoroughly miserable as Rei-sama had a few minutes ago. He turned, and started to walk slowly away.

There were a lot of gasps and titters from the sorceresses all staring at him, and at Eriko-sama, and they were talking to each other excitedly behind their hands. "...spineless..." Noriko could have sworn she'd heard that word. Yes, everyone seemed to think he was a coward, and weak, because he wasn't even trying to force Eriko-sama to come home with him – not that he would have had much luck at _that_.

Noriko wasn't so sure. It had just dawned on her what was odd about the tableau: she'd never seen it before. Lone men did not approach large gatherings of sorceresses. They just didn't. Until now. He had _come among them_, and he didn't seem afraid of Eriko-sama at all, or of anyone else. Nor did he seem belligerent – just hurt and confused.

Perhaps Eriko-sama was thinking that also. She said, "Yamanobe-san?"

He stopped, and turned slowly. "Yes, Eriko-san."

"I don't want to live with you," she said, deliberately, "but I don't want to marry anyone else either."

He stared. "You don't?"

"No. You're free to marry someone else, of course... I could hardly blame you..."

"I don't have any intentions that way, Eriko-san. Not now."

They gazed upon one another for a bit.

Then Yamanobe-san said, "Shall we meet once a year? As Kengyu and Orihime do?"

There were a lot of gasps, and moans, and shrill sighs, as well as tittering, and outright coarse laughter from someone Noriko couldn't see. But Eriko-sama and Yamanobe-san had eyes for no one else.

"It might be more than once a year," Eriko-sama allowed, smiling.

Yamanobe-san stared at her a moment longer, then smiled. A completely genuine smile. Relieved, Noriko thought. "All right! All right... I'll look forward to your visits, then. Have a good Questioning, Eriko-san."

Eriko-sama bowed slightly. "Why thank you, Yamanobe-san."

He bowed back, somewhat more deeply, turned, and continued the way he'd been going. With something more of liveliness this time.

The excited chatter increased as he got further away. Noriko let out a long breath she'd been holding in. "That is no ordinary man," she said, wonderingly. "To agree to a bargain like that!"

"That's Eriko-sama," Rei-sama said proudly. "She finds unusual people. Even if she has to go hunting for them."

* * *

When Fujiwara Akiko-dono emerged from the Guild Offices and crossed up the short distance to Third Street, she found all of the Dragon Order and their sorores and famulae, waiting for her. Which is to say, most of the Guild.

They were all looking at her.

She had stood in this place many times before. She had been leading Questionings for nearly one hundred years now. Lately she had been aware that this time was going to be different, given Amaterako-sama's prediction with regard to the egg – but now she thought there might be something more. The sight of everyone waiting for her affected her more strongly than it had done in... well, the years blurred, along with the faces. Some of these faces looked so like faces she had known, twenty years, fifty years ago, and longer. She had had friends, once. There had been a sort of Mountain Lily Gang in her youth, a close-woven sisterhood. All gone now. Akiko the only survivor. But when she looked at these faces, she could almost fool herself into believing that those days weren't so far off, that they'd never really ended, that today was yesterday if you could just see it from the right angle...

So, for a moment, she allowed herself to just stand there and look at them all, and wallow in nostalgia and affection... _wallow a_ bit_. Can't wallow too long. Wallowing makes you an easy target.._.

Remembering with pleasure and affection the irritating and frustrating Guild elders of her own day, she raised her voice to address her cubs: "The journey of a thousand miles does _not_ begin with a single step," she told them. "It began a thousand years before."

There were open mouths, frowns, and lips moving, repeating the words, trying to parse them.

"Come, come!" She clapped her hands. "That road won't walk itself." She turned and started east.

She heard many pairs of feet behind her, printing dusty footprints in the air, following.

* * *

She smiled. She knew how it was behind her without looking: this was a moment for famulae and sorores to walk close to their mistresses. Many of them had never left Heian Kyo until now, and they couldn't really imagine what the world might look like outside the walls. Some had been on pilgrimages here and there, but never more than a day or two days' journey out. A carriage-ride up Mt. Hiei to Enryaku-ji, or something of the kind. This journey would be crossing Hiei-sama, and moving on into the wilderness in the northeast. This was scary for most of them. Funny thing, though – or not so funny – most of the elder sisters were in much the same case. They had been on Questionings before, but only as sorores, or famulae. There were in fact only three exceptions to this: Torii Eriko-san, Mizuno Youko-san, and Satou Sei-san. Three seasoned Dragons, no more. And with all Akiko had heard about the chaos at Prince Suguru's pavilion yesterday, it was clear that the Guild was in very great danger.

So this Questioning was very important.

* * *

"I feel FINE," Yoshino said loudly.

Mayuko-san began to tear up. Again. "Please, Yoshino-san, don't shout at me so. I'm only trying to –"

"To MOTHER me and PAMPER me and BABY me and CODDLE me and make me VOMIT. It's bad enough I have to stay here on my own. Will you at least let me feed myself?" She snatched the bowl of lees away from her nursie. "And this is all right in the morning, but if you don't give me something more substantial this afternoon, I'm _throwing_ it at you."

She ate, grumpily. So. Rei-chan was tramping off into the wilds, with that blasted Noriko-san at her side. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful. Nothing she could do about it... _I could do something dreadful to Noriko-san when they come back. Involving spikes. Yes, spikes._ She chewed moodily, her teeth clicking against each other, because you can't really chew lees.

She noticed that Mayuko-san was sitting a little way away, looking at the floor. Her plain, round face was turned away from Yoshino, but visible at an angle, and hopelessly sad. A tear rolled down one cheek.

Yoshino felt awful.

None of this was Mayuko-san's fault. It was not only pointless to take it out on her, it was cruel.

_Am I cruel?_ she wondered. _Or might she be the sort of girl one naturally takes things out on?_

_If she is, does that give you the right to take things out on her? _she seemed to hear Rei-chan ask, in her driest tones.

"I'm sorry, Mayuko-san," she said softly.

Mayuko-san looked around. She was still morose, but seemed surprised as well. "Oh... you don't have to apologize, Yoshino-san. It's nothing... anyway... um, would you like me to just..."

"I would like you to come back and sit with me," Yoshino said.

Mayuko-san was quite astonished now. "R-really?"

"Yes. We're going to be spending a lot of time together, so we should try to get along."

"I thought you were mad at me..." Mayuko looked down.

_Was there ever a girl more feeble and wet?_

"I'm mad at Rei-chan, and at my body, mostly," Yoshino answered. "None of it is your fault, though. And it can't be any fun for you either, getting stuck behind here, looking after an invalid. All your friends get to go on the Questioning too, same as mine." Yoshino hmphed. "We're discards, Mayuko-san."

There was a silence. Mayuko-san stood and padded over; her feet in their thick socks were broad like her face and her hips. She sat near Yoshino. She still wasn't looking directly at her.

"I don't have any friends, really," she said at length.

_Oh, no._ Yoshino sighed. Then she seemed to hear Rei-chan enjoining her to behave again. And then she cursed Rei-chan, wishing upon her sore feet, and perhaps the occasional corn. _If Rei-chan_ were _here, she would tell me to behave, and I wouldn't have to do it myself._ "But I always see you with that Hikaru girl," she said, deciding it was more sensible to talk to people who were actually in the room with her. "I thought you were friends."

"Not really," Mayuko-san said. "She just lets me tag along." Another tear rolled. Then Mayuko-san wiped her eyes with a sleeve, shaking her head a little. "I'm sorry, Yoshino-san. I'll try to be better company."

"Don't worry," Yoshino said. Almost against her will, she was concerned about this Mayuko-san. "You've been nice to me, and I've been rather horrible to you. I'll try to be better company too. But if you want to tell me about things... I always thought you were a member of Hikaru-sama's group. Today is the first time I've seen you away from Hikaru-sama, certainly."

Mayuko-san smiled sadly. "I'm not a member, really. I'm not much use at anything. Except healing."

"You're a Dragon-level sorceress, aren't you?"

"Oh, barely. I can turn one key, earth. That's one reason, you see, it was decided I'd stay behind with you. I'm a good healer –" there was a little dash of pride, there, the first sign of spine Yoshino had seen – "but not the best. That's Sachiko-sama. So I'm someone who can look after you without depriving the expedition of a useful sorceress." She smiled the soft smile again. "Sachiko-sama is a glorious person. You're lucky to live here with her."

"She can be pretty difficult, actually," Yoshino said.

"Oh." Mayuko-san looked a little disappointed.

_Now, now._ "She _is_ a fine person underneath it all. Look, who was your mistress?"

Now Mayuko-san looked thoroughly downcast. "I didn't have one."

"You what?"

"That's the other reason I was to stay with you. I've never had a mistress, I've never been on a Questioning. I would be useless anyway."

Yoshino tried not to stare. She had heard tell here and there that there was now and then a freak of nature such as this. The meeting of mistress and soror, however, was the soror's responsibility too, perhaps almost as much as the mistress's. It sounded as if Mayuko-san hadn't made much of an effort, if any. "Did you never want one?"

"Of course I did. Of course. I guess... everyone just thinks I'm a bore. And I'm not pretty or talented, so... So. But... well..."

She was looking away again, embarrassed.

"But what?"

"You'll laugh at me."

"No I won't." Yoshino said patiently. "I don't have a sense of humor. Was there never anyone you wanted for a mistress?"

"Yes..."

"Who?"

"Hikaru-sama..."

Yoshino frowned. "She's your own age, isn't she?"

"She's a few months older," Mayuko-san owned. "But we entered the Guild on the same day."

"So she couldn't very well be your mistress."

"She will always be my mistress," Mayuko-san said softly.

_Oh dear._ Hopelessly in love. Emphasis on the "hopeless." Poor Mayuko-san. "Does she know how you feel about her?"

"Probably," Mayuko-san said. "She seems to know everything else about me. She knows when I'm hiding something. Sometimes she seems to know what I'm thinking before _I_ really know." Mayuko-san was waxing rhapsodic. More vivacity here than Yoshino had seen yet. The girl had a case, all right.

"But she doesn't return your feelings?"

"No... why should she?"

"Oh, don't be so abject, Mayuko-san..."

"Well, why? She's the talented daughter of Lord Oe. My mother was in service to Yamamoto of the Heike – a warrior family. Sort of noble, certainly compared to me and my mother, but the house of Oe would laugh themselves sick at the thought of it."

"What about your father?"

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has a father!"

"I never knew mine. And mother died when I was little. She never told me about him... or not that I remember. I grew up serving the Yamamotos. And keeping still."

"You _know_ that what family you came from doesn't matter, in the Guild?" Yoshino offered it half as question and half admonishment. "Most of us have been disowned by our families anyway. I'll bet your Hikaru-sama isn't on speaking terms with her father these days."

"No, she's not. She's never talked about him much."

"But the point is, family background doesn't _matter_. Not here. Look at Sachiko-sama. She's the bluest of the bluebloods. Her family were on marriage terms with emperors when Oe-dono's were still rusticating in Kyushu. And Sachiko-sama has chosen for her soror a beggar-girl off the streets. And Yumi-san was a _very_ good choice, too, if last night is anything to go by..."

"Oh, Yoshino-san... is it true that Sachiko-sama fought and killed a demon last night?" Mayuko-san seemed a bit breathless. _She really does admire Sachiko-sama a lot._

"True. I watched her do it. Actually, she had help from Yumi-san. Yumi-san is brave, and she has powerful magic, it suddenly turns out - and she and Sachiko-sama have already formed a deep attachment. And just two days ago, Yumi-san was all miserable and putting herself down, and thinking she wasn't worthy of Sachiko-sama, and I was telling her what I'm telling you now: it really doesn't matter." Yoshino sighed, and looked at Mayuko-san, whose eyes were wet.

"Oh, Yoshino-san... that's so..." Mayuko-san's voice had gone all wobbly.

Yoshino resisted the urge to fall back on her pallet and make retching noises. "I suppose, if you like that kind of thing... Sachiko-sama and Yumi-san are good people, but they both seem to need a lot of looking after. I'm hoping they'll look after each other better from now on..."

Yoshino trailed off. There was a noise on the verandah. Boards creaking, and then a series of agile little thumps.

She looked at Mayuko-san.

Mayuko-san looked at her. Mayuko-san had both hands over her mouth and was trembling. _No help there, then._

Yoshino looked at her own right hand, and spoke to it, carefully, one word. It began to glow red. She raised it from the padded robe.

The verandah door slid open, hitting its jamb with a smack, and a small person with flailing arms came tumbling into the room.

"Don't move!" Yoshino snapped.

The red light was more impressive if it suddenly pierced a comforting darkness, but even in daylight, it cast an eerie glow over the room; there seemed to be red ghosts in the very floorboards, straining to get out.

Yoshino wasn't actually sure how long she could or should keep this up. She felt fine, damn it, but Sachiko-sama's orders, and Fujiwara-dono's, had been strict: "No needless exertion; no over-excitement. Stay away from confrontations. Behave yourself." _But, for Heaven's sake, if confrontations insist on coming to_ me_..._ Mayuko-san was clinging to her shoulder. Terror, no doubt. Yoshino felt annoyance at this –

– until she recognized the feeling she'd had yesterday with Eriko-sama, and countless times with Rei-chan, a feeling like a hot spring was bubbling up inside her. Mayuko-san was lending her strength. There was a warm, steady pulse of energy, as different from Eriko-sama's as Eriko-sama's was from Rei-chan's, but with a familiar feeling to it: the feeling of being loved.

Tears welled up in Yoshino's eyes, and she shook her head, a short vehement shake, to clear it. No time for that...

_...why has this girl never been accepted as a soror mystica?_

The small person on the floor was staring at the red pulsing floorboards and trembling badly. "Make them stop. Please, my lady –"

"What do you want here?" Yoshino asked calmly. She could be calm. She could be in a confrontation like this, with an intruder, and still be calm. It was amazing how calm she felt. "Why have you come?"

"I came to see Lady Sachiko," the small person piped up – a girl, as Yoshino saw now, of no more than eight or nine. She wore rags, worn almost through in spots, but kept carefully clean and mended. Her face was sharp, her eyes darting, like a bird in a trap.

"What did you want with her?"

"She's l-looking for a girl named Yumi-san, described her for me, I did some asking around, found a few girls who might be this Yumi-san, thought I'd ask Lady Sachiko –"

"Lady Sachiko is gone, sorry," Yoshino interrupted. All was becoming clear now. "Yumi-san was found yesterday evening. They've both left town with the other sorceresses, on an expedition."

The girl's face fell, even as her taut, wiry frame relaxed. She bit her lower lip.

Yoshino relaxed too; the light changed from red to white, and then disappeared. The room was ordinary again. She put her ordinary hand on Mayuko-san's hand, which still rested on her shoulder.

Mayuko-san jumped. "Sorry," she whispered, and started to remove her hand – but found that Yoshino was holding onto it.

"Thank you," Yoshino said, firmly, and with a very firm look at her new friend.

Mayuko-san stuttered, "I d-didn't mean, well –" She blushed, and looked away.

The girl intruder stood up, dusting herself off. "Well," she said. "I guess I'm pretty stupid." She sounded very disappointed with herself, and the world generally.

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoshino said. "You're Kikuko-chan, aren't you?"

The girl stopped dusting and stared at Yoshino.

"Forgive my intrusion," said a disembodied voice, mournfully, and the girl – Kikuko-chan, Yoshino was sure – jumped and gave a startled "hah?"

"Good morning, Goben-san," Yoshino said. "How may I help you?"

The door to the upstairs passageway, behind Kikuko-chan and to her left, opened gently, no more than three handspans, to reveal a greying head, forehead on the floor in the hall, shaved crown pointing into the room. Kikuko-chan drew back from it, but then held still, as if she was afraid a sudden move might get her in trouble again.

"I deeply regret the necessity of interfering in your private affairs, Mistress Yoshino-sama," said the disembodied voice, evidently emanating from this greying head, which lifted itself briefly and then smacked its forehead on the floor.

"Was that a little too much noise, Goben-san?" Yoshino said. "Sorry. Something unexpected happened. I will do all in my power to foresee the unexpected, in future."

"I – Iiiiiii, ahn –" He seemed reluctant to let the matter go there, yet unable to articulate his reluctance.

The door opened somewhat further and Goben-san's daughter, Miyo-san, appeared in the hall above her father's prostrate form.

"Good morning, Yoshino-san," she said. "Sorry to be a nuisance. Your downstairs neighbor complained of a noise."

"Good morning, Miyo-san!" Yoshino said cheerfully. "It was only our visitor, here. She took a bit of a fall, but she's all right now."

"Oh!" Miyo-san said happily, with a friendly look at the girl. "Are you Kikuko-chan?"

Kikuko-chan looked around wildly.

"How does everyone know my name?" she demanded of Yoshino, whirling back to face her.

"You told it to Sachiko-sama, and she told it to me," Yoshino said simply. "She said if you turned up, you were a friend of hers, and we were to offer you food and shelter."

"She said the same thing to me!" Miyo-san said. She knelt next to her father, but did not prostrate herself; she merely reached a hand out to Kikuko-chan, smiling. "She added that you would certainly refuse the offer, but that was only your strange idea of good manners, and that we were to keep offering until you gave up."

Kikuko-chan glowered at the hand, and then looked at the floor. "Sachiko-sama," she said, almost growling. "And what if I don't want people doing things for me? What if I didn't ask for your charity?"

"Charity?" Yoshino echoed innocently. "It sounds as if you've been putting some energy into the search for Yumi-san. In the event, we found her ourselves, but I'm sure Sachiko-sama would want you to be compensated for your time and trouble."

Kikuko-chan's shoulders slumped.

Miyo-san dashed forward, put an arm around Kikuko-chan's shoulders, and began to lead her away downstairs. "We have some bass, fresh-caught in the river this morning," she was saying sweetly, "And rice-cakes, and miso soup – oh, and some lovely oranges! Would you like oranges?" Kikuko-chan only mumbled in response, as they started down the ladder. Goben-san was still in his favorite position, saying "Aa – aa – aaaaah –"

Yoshino giggled. Then stopped. Then started again without meaning to. She decided to let it ride. It was the first laugh she'd had all day.

"I thought you didn't have a sense of humor, Yoshino-san," Mayuko said shyly.

"Oh, sometimes – by mistake –" Yoshino said lamely, and giggled again.

* * *

As the straggling, uneven column of sorceresses had moved north up Nishiomiya Avenue, then turned east at Second Street, it had abandoned any pretense of order and gone back to the conversing-in-twos-and-threes state it had been in before Fujiwara-dono had appeared. The only difference was that they were all walking now, and in the same direction. Good order was not as vital as it would become later, and everybody was very nervous, of course. So the leadership allowed some little chaos for the time being, as everyone walked along beside the Second Street canal, its waters decorated with cherry blossom petals that kept falling, falling, falling from the trees lining the canal. This was the last sweet sight of the City that had given most of them birth, and Fujiwara-dono would not interfere with their enjoyment and occasionally noisy admiration of the blossoming trees.

However, Mizuno Youko breathed a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief as they passed through the Nijo Gate. The dusty road stretched ahead, broken some distance off by the wooden Nijo Bridge over the waters of the Kamo river. Past the river, the road went on, obscured now and then by houses and trees, but always reappearing eventually, up the mountain, in white and grey fragmented strips showing between the sheltering trees around the shoulder of the mountain. To the gorge, to adventure, to the endless warring harmony of earth and heaven, the many kingdoms of sea and sky. The road went on forever.

"Your favorite time of year, I know," said a well-known voice beside her...

Satou Sei was happiest on the road, too. Not that Heian Kyo didn't have its charms. She had adopted the City as her new hometown, whether the City liked it or not, and she knew that it would always be so. If she couldn't come back to the City, she would be forever lost. But if she couldn't leave the City sometimes, she would be forever imprisoned... she sidled closer to Youko. They might not have many opportunities to talk, in days to come, with Youko at the vanguard and Sei watching the rear. Youko was wearing the standard white robe and hakama with red sash. No insignia of her office; she didn't bother with that kind of thing. People knew she was in charge, and if they didn't they soon found out. Sei approved of that. "Your favorite time of year, I know," she said softly.

Her friend turned her head to look at her, and gave her a small smile. "You were in my mind again."

"I'm insidious, I am."

"Among other adjectives... will you be falling from a great height onto any more demons in the foreseeable future?"

"I can't promise anything. Demons are the very devil to work with, and anyway I get bored doing the same thing over and over."

Youko sighed. "All right. You won't be serious."

"You expected me to?" Sei raised her eyebrows.

"I try not to expect anything of you because I know you don't like it. I only hoped..."

Sei looked at her old friend seriously. Youko didn't seem upset, or really sad. Wistful, if anything.

"You ought not to think so much," Sei told her. "You'll make a ruin of your complexion."

Youko hmphed. "Excellent advice. If you can reduce the number of things there are to think about, I will gladly comply with it."

Sei thought about this.

Youko was not just the person Sei would have chosen for a friend, if she'd had the choice. (She'd never chosen a friend in her life, it seemed to her; they just happened to her, like the weather.) But somehow, Youko had become the person she was closest to in the whole world. She even remembered a time when she would have destroyed herself, if not for Youko. But even close friends as they were, Youko was a mystery to Sei, in a lot of ways. But whose fault was that? In her own distinct manner, she was as self-sufficient as Sei was herself. Sei knew that Youko, like herself, was a career sorceress, and the Guild would always be her home. But they had different approaches to the same position – or predicament, depending.

"I was being silly," Sei allowed at last, "and I suppose you were too. I can't reduce their number. But maybe I can help you think about them?"

Youko's head snapped around, and she stared at Sei. "That almost sounded serious."

"Why shouldn't it be?"

"Thinking isn't fun," Youko said. "You don't like to do things that aren't fun."

Sei just endured that. It seemed the best way.

Youko looked away again. "I'm sorry, Sei. I'm not being fair to you."

"No, you're right," Sei said, without shame. "I don't like to do things that aren't fun. Watching you think, on your own, bearing responsibilities alone, isolated from the rest of us, is especially not-fun for me."

Youko turned her head back to look at Sei again. A slow, almost shy look.

"You always have something to do," Sei added. "You keep yourself so busy, I sometimes think you're afraid that, if you stopped working, we would decide we didn't need you."

Youko sighed. "Someone has to do these things. They're real tasks. I don't invent them."

"I think you're right. But I think I'm right too."

"Do you think I should stop working, and wait for people to notice?"

"Maybe some time off from work, every so often, wouldn't kill you... do you know, I have never seen you in our rooms at the Mountain Lily Inn?"

Youko was taken aback. "Well... why should I..."

"We're your friends," Sei said. "You've had a standing invitation for literally years, but you're always busy with something."

"Sei – look, the last thing I wanted was to hurt your feelings, but –"

"You haven't."

Youko went rigid at this, and glared at Sei. "What are you doing?"

"What's important here is not my feelings," Sei said, laughing. "I'm not sure I have any. What's important here is you, never taking time off to just sit with friends, relax, have a drop of wine maybe, and chat about matters that aren't life or death or in need of being resolved with firmness and administrative virtuosity by the beginning of the next quarter at the latest."

"I don't have anything on my mind like _that_ at the moment," Sei said defensively, "But there are certainly things that need thinking about –"

"Good. So let me help you."

"What will you want in return?" Youko said quickly.

"I'll want you to help me have fun," Sei shot right back.

There was a momentary lull in the hostilities, if "hostilities" was the right word. Neither of them had raised her voice, and someone watching them at a distance, as several people were, would never have suspected they were having an argument.

"_You_ need help to have fun?" Youko said at last with raised eyebrows.

"Sometimes I forget the motions," Sei said lightly, "And need a gentle touch, or a smack, to remind me. Or sometimes, however you try, you can't have fun alone. So you hunt around for someone to have fun with. You end up with some pretty random people that way – though the process can be enjoyable in itself –"

Youko looked at the sky. "_You_ certainly seem to enjoy the process," she said airily. "No one reports on you, exactly, and I don't exactly ask, but from the sound of things you seldom sleep alone."

"True," Sei said sadly. "That's not all my own will, look you. Sometimes, you just have a duty to people, not to let them sleep alone. It can be cursed hard on a girl."

"Don't," Youko said, almost absently.

There was a little more silence.

"You were the first person I met, when I arrived in this country... remember?" Sei said.

"Yes." Youko's voice was quiet.

"The first person to start teaching me the ways, and the language, of my adopted land, was you. At first I went from liking you to being annoyed by you; it was as if I suddenly had a sister I hadn't asked for, one who kept following me around and visiting gratuitous advice upon me. And I didn't understand why you were so persistent, because I wasn't at all sure you liked me. You seemed so annoyed by me."

Youko was looking at the road now. "I _was_ annoyed by you. You were annoying. You still are."

Sei grinned at this.

In a defiant, almost hostile tone, Youko added, "You were also noble, fearless, brilliant, and even terrifying when you were in the right mood."

"Well said!" Sei did love a well-turned phrase.

"And you still are all those things," Youko went on, as if Sei hadn't spoken. "I couldn't leave you alone because I'd never known anyone like you. Does that make you happy?" She wouldn't look at Sei.

"No," Sei said. She glared at her friend's profile. She wished she could _look_ understanding into her, for even as noble and fearless and brilliant as she was, some things hurt too much to explain. "I spent those days chasing a will-o-the-wisp, which turned out to be real enough to draw blood."

Youko gasped. As well she might. Sei didn't usually bring this subject up. But at least Youko was looking at her now.

"After it was over, I did wonder what it was all for. But I know better now. It brought me to this country, to our at-times-highly-amusing city. To this Guild, an organization which lets me get away with being only as organized as I care to be. It brought me to a great teacher, Fujiwara-dono. To people, friends, I value." She tried the most ingratiating smile she knew. "You most of all, Youko."

Youko looked away again. "Even annoying as I am?"

_My exasperating friend._ "Annoying isn't all you are. You are also fearless, noble, brilliant, and – quite often – terrifying. In your own way, which is different from mine, but still perfectly valid..."

Youko was completely off-balance, now. So many things screamed to be said that she couldn't decide on one. She gestured with her hands, trying to compose her thoughts, but even to her, it looked a bit like flailing. Then Sei took one of her hands, very gently, and everything inside Youko went very still.

"You and Fujiwara-dono have dropped a lot of hints, lately," Sei said. "I'm not deaf, or blind. Just slow to make up my mind, betimes..."

Youko brushed a thumb across the back of Sei's hand as she searched for her next words. "We know that you want your freedom."

"I hew nearer the bone, the freer I may be," Sei agreed. "But freedom, silly to say, has its limitations. On the back of a dragon, I was free. There was nothing to tie me to the world below except a fragile link with a girl I'd never met, and even that could have gone the way of mist. I was on fire for the sky. I could have become a true dragon, living only for the winds. That's freedom. I might easily have seized upon it, and we would never have known each other..."

There was dragonfire in Sei's eyes.

Youko's legs were walking by themselves. She had no idea where she was putting her feet. She had eyes only for Sei. And she'd put her other hand into play, so that she was clasping Sei's in both.

If Sei noticed, she paid it no mind.

"But," Sei went on, "I _didn't_ seize it. I came back to earth, to walk among humans again. What does that tell us?"

"It would be sad, never to have known you," Youko said.

A typical mocking Sei grin. "You would never have known the difference! Never mind. I feel the same. That's the trouble with freedom. You need something to be free _of_, and then, of course, you're bound to it, and your freedom is as free as the present moment, which is always falling into the prison of the past... I'm right up against it here, Youko. I need more time, but maybe not that much more. I do know that a life without the Guild – and without my annoying friend – would be an empty life, unless I could find something else to fill it the same way. And what are the chances of that?"

"Finding someone like me?" Youko smiled. "Impossible."

"I agree. So. Tell me what's on your mind?"

Youko hesitated, but only for a moment. There was one problem Fujiwara-dono had dropped in her lap this morning that might especially benefit from Sei's touch. So she told Sei what was on her mind.

* * *

Not long before they came to the Nijo Bridge, Sachiko-sama and Yumi were approached by a beautiful girl, a beauty on the order of Sachiko-sama herself. A polite "good morning" was exchanged between Sachiko-sama and this girl. Sachiko-sama then said, "Yumi, this is Todo Shimako. She is Satou-san's soror mystica, so you're apt to be seeing a lot of one another. Why don't you two get acquainted? I should discuss something with Youko-sama." And Sachiko-sama, with a smile and a squeeze to Yumi's shoulder, speeded up her pace, making for the head of the informal column, leaving Yumi a bit crestfallen.

"I hope I don't impose," Shimako-san said to her.

"Oh, no!" Yumi said. "It was so sudden, that's all. How do you do, Shimako-san?"

"Very well, thank you. And you?"

"It's a beautiful day," Yumi said, "and I'm walking the roads again, but this time with over a hundred other people..." She trailed off. This was obviously a well-bred girl. What would she think of Yumi the mendicant? –

"I gathered you have led a wandering life," Shimako-san assured her. "We have only just met, but I did spend much of yesterday searching for you. My mistress has told me a great deal about you. She is interested in you, and she likes you very much."

"Satou-sama is a bit mad, isn't she?" Yumi said this without really thinking; the angry, Tsujimoto-thrashing Satou-sama of yesterday afternoon was in her mind's eye, and it was only when the words were out of her mouth already that it occurred to her that Shimako-san might find them offensive.

"She's not like other people, certainly. That looks like madness, sometimes... My mistress is concerned about you, Yumi-san." Shimako-san seemed mildly reproachful.

"I didn't mean to insult her," Yumi hastened to say. "She helped me so much, yesterday. She got that man Tsujimoto away from me. And she was there, with the others, when the demon nearly got me. I still don't know how they found me. Did they just keep a lookout on the Suzaku Oji, or –"

"No, Yumi-san. My mistress found you."

"Wh-what?"

"She was looking for you all afternoon. We all were, of course, except for Sachiko-sama. In the end, thanks to one piece of information my mistress found, she was able to locate you, on Ninth Street. And she knew there was a demon after you, though I'm not sure how. She consulted with a cat, and I couldn't hear their conversation... She got me to pass the information to the others, and went after you first herself."

Yumi gazed at Shimako's friendly smile, and looked away. "I see," she said. "Everyone was searching. Except Sachiko-sama. Was she busy with something?"

"She couldn't. Oh, no. Mizuno-sama had forbidden her. Mizuno-sama ordered her to stay at the Inn and guard the... egg, she said." Shimako-san looked sweetly mystified. "I'm not sure just what that was, but I suspect it's something to do with the big to-do about this Questioning, which everyone isn't talking about. And Sachiko-sama was terribly, terribly angry with Mizuno-sama for curbing her. She wanted to search for you herself. I've never seen the two of them so at odds. Oh, well. It's over anyway, Yumi-san. You're back with us, the demon is dead, and our departure wasn't even delayed. I just wish Yoshino-san was coming with us."

"So do I," Yumi said sadly.

"I know how my mistress seems, Yumi-san, and I can understand if she makes you uneasy. She comes by her strangeness honestly; she comes from another land, another world, across the Great Eastern Ocean."

"I thought there was nothing across the Great Eastern Ocean."

"So did I, until Mistress came from there."

"I see." Yumi did not see.

Shimako-san was silent for a moment. She seemed to be groping. "She told me that everything about everything seems to take you by surprise. She felt close to you, because she was like that when she first arrived here… your mistress and mine often work together on things, and so we are likely to be thrown much together. I only..."

Did Shimako-san want to be friends?

Sachiko-sama had moved to take Yumi's hand. Yoshino-san had instantly offered her own. Shimako-san, however...

_She's like me._

And there it was. In spite of her superior breeding, Shimako-san lacked Sachiko-sama's confidence, and felt unable to recommend herself. She seemed to feel instinctively, as Yumi did, that no one would want to be her friend, and so she cut the feet out from under her own offer of friendship even as she made it.

If anything, she found Shimako-san more intimidating than Yoshino-san. Shimako-san was a lady, like Sachiko-sama. But Yoshino was only intimidating at first glance – and Yumi wished more strongly than ever that Yoshino-san was here. _She would never allow us to be so clumsy with each other._

Yumi said, "Will you be my friend, Shimako-san? I don't know very much about friendship, and so I might do it wrong. Please be patient with me!"

Shimako-san smiled shyly. "I should be asking _you_... Pray forgive my clumsiness, Yumi-san."

"If one of us stumbles," Yumi said, "the other will offer an arm."

"And if we stumble at the same time?"

"Then we will try to break one another's fall?" Yumi said uncertainly.

After a moment, Shimako-san laughed. And then, they were both laughing carefully together. They found later that they'd had the same mental image at the same time, of the two of them about to fall, and saying to one another, after _you_. No, after _you_...

* * *

Sachiko fell into step beside Youko-sama at last; her former mistress had been conversing with Sei-san for several minutes, and Sachiko hadn't liked to interrupt. Anyway, she wanted to talk to Youko-sama alone.

Sachiko's rage of yesterday had subsided, of course, and now it only remained for her to be ashamed of the things she'd said. Youko-sama's manipulativeness and high-handedness _were_ irksome at times, and her decisions could seem arbitrary. But she was, after all, Grand Mugwump of the Dragon Order. Sachiko had occasionally been placed in a position of leadership herself. She had been forced to wonder if it was possible for anyone to conduct herself in such a post so well as to escape any hint of censure. Even Fujiwara-dono, as capable a leader as Sachiko had ever seen, was often thought insane, or at least wrongheaded, and occasionally it was even whispered by this or that person that she might be... incompetent. Only no one quite had the nerve to tell her so to her face. Perhaps that was the secret of being a good leader: to be so formidable that no one had the courage, or the presence of mind, to accuse you of wrong action even when there might be grounds for it – but how could that level of formidableness, that Fujiwara-dono style of implacability, unreadableness, and unpredictability possibly be expected of Youko-sama who was, after all, only a little older than Sachiko herself? Surely Fujiwara-dono hadn't always been as she was now. It must have taken her years to acquire this strange, incalculable poise, this seeming madness with a steely sanity beneath it... Sachiko wished she could take back what she'd said, could have controlled herself better –

"Do you still think my decisions were high-handed, arrogant, and unjust?" Youko-sama said. She was looking straight ahead, down the road.

"Yes," Sachiko said truthfully.

"I see." Youko-sama's voice remained level.

"But I also think... on reflection... that your decisions were the only possible ones. And I've been wishing I could unsay the things I said."

Youko-sama did glance at her then. She seemed almost startled. Then she looked ahead again. "I see... Well, I still think it was a disgusting, uncivilized show you put on with Tsujimoto-san yesterday. And I'd appreciate it if, should you find it necessary to make such a display again, you could endeavor not to do so in front of the Emperor. But... well, your actions were, after all... understandable."

Sachiko stared a bit. She couldn't recall Youko-sama ever making such a concession before.

"Still wrongheaded, mind you," Youko-sama added with a flash of sternness. "And quite senseless. None of that helped you get Yumi back, did it?"

Sachiko didn't say anything. It grieved her to admit the justice of that, but what else could she do?

"But Fujiwara-dono made me think about what I might have done in your shoes... anyway... can we forgive and forget, Sachiko?"

Youko-sama's tone was very gentle now.

_This is as close as either of us will get to pleading,_ Sachiko thought. She bowed her head. "Most of the fault was mine, Youko-sama. I was going to go on to interrogate him about Yumi, but..."

"Still pointless."

Sachiko ground her teeth a bit, but she wanted peace, and she had to let it pass. "Yes. I don't think he knows very much about Yumi. He obviously held her in contempt; regarded her as nothing more than a tool. And he certainly wouldn't have had any useful ideas about how I could go about finding her."

"Not like the demon."

"Yes..." Sachiko turned to look Youko-sama in the eye. She felt troubled. Youko-sama had echoed her private thoughts quite accurately. "The demon would have known."

"They both, well, _procured_ Yumi for their own purposes," Youko-sama mused. "And they both thought they had power over her, that they could compel her to do their bidding. They were both wrong. But the demon was closer to right."

"The demon very nearly _was_ right," Sachiko said quietly.

Youko-sama just looked at her. Waiting.

"I still don't know how I found that thread... I, well, I _loved_ Yumi. I just closed my eyes and loved her with everything I had, consigning to darkness everything that wasn't her, or me, or our love – I felt, I felt her loving me back." That moment was still with her. It had been joy, unexpected, impossible, and she hadn't consciously believed in it until Yumi had fallen asleep in her arms a little later. "I actually felt that, like the warmth of a fire or a hot bath. I held us apart, and reached into that darkness, and the thread was there in my hand, and I knew it for what it was. It was almost as if Yumi had handed it to me – though I don't think she did – though I can't be sure, of _anything_ –"

"Except her love."

"…Except that. It seemed to hum, that thread, as if alive. I was angry. I _looked_ all my anger at that thread. And then, it had gone all brittle and flaky in my hands..."

Youko-sama nodded.

"I don't know how I found it, and I certainly don't know how I destroyed it."

"Perhaps Yumi destroyed it? She clearly has more talent than meets the eye."

"I don't – believe so."

"But you don't know?"

Sachiko was being stern with herself, making sure she kept what she _wanted_ to be true well separate from what she thought _could_ be true. As Youko had taught her... "Maybe we did it together?"

"Without Yumi being aware of her own contribution? Possible. Yumi's awareness needs kicking up."

"You always used to say that about _me_."

Youko-sama gave her a quick smile. "I still do, sometimes... Yes, I think that may be nearer the mark. We witnessed a collaboration between the two of you, last night. Fujiwara-dono was first to point it out."

"But it doesn't answer the question. I don't think you could destroy a thing like that unless you knew how it was made in the first place."

"Perhaps Yumi provided that knowledge."

Sachiko glared at her former mistress – _face it, she's always going to be your mistress_ – "Do you still think she's deceiving me?"

Youko-sama sighed. "I was never married to that idea in the first place, Sachiko; not really." She paused. "A person can know things without knowing she knows them, you know. Fujiwara-dono believes there's a lot more in Yumi's world than anyone knows about, especially Yumi. We're not trying to persecute her, but only to help her, and protect her and ourselves from potentially explosive knowledge."

Sachiko's anger had subsided. "You're right. I think Fujiwara-dono might be right too. I'm sorry, Youko-sama."

"Love can make a person unreasonable," Youko-sama said gently. She touched Sachiko's hand briefly. "I know this from experience."

* * *

The Eternal City of Peace and Tranquility had long before overflowed its eastern wall, as if the well-kept, stylish City of the Left were in a panicked, headlong flight from the raised arms and bared teeth of the City of the Right. This far north it had overflowed not just the walls but the banks of the Kamo River itself, so that even after the Dragon Order and their sorores had crossed the Nijo Bridge, there were still stately homes, and not-so-stately homes, and government granaries, and little temples, and even a drilling-ground or two, as well as small marketplaces and food vendors here or there. The marketplaces were not very busy at this time of day, but such merchants as there were grew quiet and watchful as the long train of sorceresses passed along the Nijo Road toward Mount Hiei. Some made a poor show of activity, pretending they didn't care about it, but most stared outright, often with their mouths hanging open.

"Ordinarily they'd be crying their wares to us, wouldn't they, Mistress?" Yumi said. The silence was making her uneasy.

"Perhaps we qualify as a religious procession," Sachiko-sama said with brisk cheerfulness.

"Still, it is strange, Mistress..."

Sachiko-sama looked at Yumi and sighed. "It's true that we sorceresses are not held in the highest regard. They need us, and they fear us, and they don't trust us. We do serve the public weal, but in order to do so, to the best of our ability, we must not be bound to the public weal, beholden to it. We must be free. A sorceress chained to the organs of state would be little more than a clown, or at best a marketplace soothsayer or cunning-woman. In order to do our best work, we must be... unpredictable. Here we are, women who move in courtly circles, walking along the road in broad daylight, not hidden in dark carriages with only our sleeves showing..."

Sachiko looked at Yumi then, and must have seen how confused she was. She squeezed Yumi's hand. "There's something _indecent_ about us," she said. "There always has been. We protect the City and the Empire from our human enemies, and from darker forces, but to do so, we must do many things that are regarded as unclean." She sighed. "And I must say that men do seem to be suspicious and mistrustful by nature, of women who seem not to need them in any way. We tramp off into the wilds like this, year after year, with no male escort to fight for us or find us food, and we tend to come back more or less unharmed, or at least uncomplaining."

"Everyone thinks we're unnatural?"

"Exactly." Sachiko-sama said. "I suppose you didn't know much about sorceresses until a few days ago, Yumi. Do you feel that I... well..."

"Mistress?"

"Do you feel I should have told you about the burdens we bear before -"

They became aware of a disturbance up ahead. Everyone was shifting to the northern edge of the road to make way for a splendid carriage, decorated with knotted silk strings and gold and pearl inlay. One long, rich sleeve hung down from the window, poking out from under the gauze curtains. The design of the sleeve was intimately familiar to Yumi, but she had to stare at it for a few moments before she really knew what she was seeing. Purple with acacia flower pattern –

She looked at her mistress. Sachiko-sama, so warm and gentle only a moment ago, had gone stony and silent. She stared away up the road toward the mountain. Many of the nearby sorceresses were looking around uneasily, looking at the carriage, looking at Sachiko-sama. The carriage's attendants, in blue tunics, red sashes, and tall black caps, seemed to emulate Sachiko-sama: they stared straight ahead of them, toward the Kamo River and the Nijo Gate away to the west.

This encounter seemed to last a long time. One could swear the sunlight was at a different angle when the carriage had passed. But it did pass, finally, and everybody except Yumi was looking anywhere other than at Sachiko-sama.

"Mistress?" Yumi ventured.

"Yumi?" was the distant reply.

"Who was that, Mistress?"

Sachiko-sama gently disengaged herself from her famula. "I would just as soon not discuss it, Yumi."

Yumi stood where she'd been left, still reaching with one hand, but not touching Sachiko-sama. "Yes, Mistress."

Yumi was trying to think of what else to say, but Sachiko-sama had left her. She was drifting back toward the edge of the road, inspecting the bushes and flowers and flowering trees, the great cherries which blessed their way with petals.

_What did I say?_

Yumi, dejected, walked on alone. She kept stopping and starting and stopping again, because it felt unnatural and, well, dangerous, to move too far without Sachiko-sama. _But Sachiko-sama doesn't want me near her... but where else can I..._

Then she jumped at a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find Satou-sama, with an unwontedly serious expression on her scarred face. The scar startled Yumi. Somehow it was more noticeable when Satou-sama wasn't smiling; one forgot about it the rest of the time.

"Don't take that to heart, Yumi. Just give Sachiko a few minutes. I think she was taken much by surprise."

"By what?" Yumi asked plaintively. "Satou-sama, who was that in the carriage?" But Yumi suddenly knew the answer to this question, even before Satou-sama confirmed it:

"Her mother."


	11. Up the Mountain, part 2

And here's the second half. By the way, I didn't thank my new beta, instant boy, in the previous half. He picked this up running, in the middle of a semester, and work and stuff, and as you may have noticed, the thing is kind of long. So, big hand to instant boy!

Glossary. Torii: the entrance to a shrine, a sort of wooden gateway marking the beginning of sacred ground, and the end of the profane. Shinden: usually the main house of a shinden-zukuri, a Heian mansion, which was several smaller houses connected by walkways. Water harp: a sort of underground echo chamber into which water runs, making a sound like the inside of a cave.

* * *

Fujiwara Akiko led the way as the long line of sorceresses began to trickle in through the torii leading into the Yamamoto Shrine. She and her charges were met here by Yamamoto-san, a properly dignified-yet-friendly monk, and his daughter, Amaya, a former pupil of Fujiwara-dono's. They greeted her with deep, reverent bows, and Amaya could not refrain from moving forward to touch Akiko's sleeve. She retained much affection for Amaya, who had been a promising sorceress, and Akiko's servant as well – and a most capable one – but in the end the claims of prior duty had won out, and she had returned to the foot of the mountain to resume her duties as a shrine maiden in her family's temple. And if it did seem to Akiko quite often that the girl regretted the decision, still she and her father very kindly insisted that the sorceresses stop here each year for a meal before ascending Mount Hiei, and it would have been churlish to refuse. Amaya was, after all, only one of a lot of Dragon-level losses in recent years. Akiko was determined that this should be a pleasant visit, and she would eat her meal with Amaya and her father and not allow any of her own lingering regret over Amaya's decision to show. What is done is done, she reminded herself. She looked at Mizuno-san, behind her, who appeared to be casting an eye back down the column at the most distant white-robed figures – there had been some kind of holdup back there to do with a carriage, apparently…

Sachiko glared at the greenery – and purplery, and pinkery – at the side of the road. She was aware that the whole column was slowly leaving her further and further behind, but she just wanted to glare at this bit for a little while longer. She had found an apposite grouping here: an acacia tree – not blooming; it was too early, but its leaves were a pure fresh green – flanked on the left by a ginkgo, with its unearthly fan-shaped leaves, and on the right by a cherry, flowering like mad, like all the cherries were, letting petals fly, so that they could tangle in the grass, and land on Sachiko, adorning her robe and her hair with their color. This was annoying, but she wanted to set the picture in her mind. She was a firm believer in looking long at what pleases you and longer still at what displeases you.

All three of these trees displeased her. The cherry and the ginkgo always had, the acacia only since she had left home over three years ago. Perhaps an unusual choice of trees to dislike – not that she'd made a conscious choice. She liked willows perfectly well, oddly; she knew people who feared and hated willows because because they seemed always about to grab one, wrapping spectral arms about one, drawing one forever into the spirit world. Sachiko liked them because their air of gloom and despondency seemed to complement her mood a lot of the time. Besides, if a willow did grab her, she knew what to do about it.

She hardly knew what it was she disliked about the cherry or the ginkgo. It was unjust to the trees, she knew. They'd never done anything to her. Well, the ginkgo fruit did smell pretty dreadful, especially if you made the fatal error of opening it to get at the nut – and then just try to get the smell off your hands, after. Worse than cleaning fish. But everyone had that experience. It wasn't something the ginkgo had done to her _personally_. And there had usually been servants to open the fruit and cope with the smell on her behalf, at least until –

_Until you left your father's house and broke your mother's heart –_

_My mother's heart is not broken. She's miffed, that's all. She's been in this state of miffedness for three years, now. As far as she's concerned, only bad girls join the Sorceresses' Guild, and it would take an utterly depraved girl to say she meant to stay with the Guild indefinitely. Ogasawaras have joined, in the past, and now Touko-chan's joined as well, but no one from Mother's family would ever so much as consider –_

_The Guild isn't what really upsets her. She thought you'd be married by now. That upsets her._

_Is it so vital to her that I marry the Nameless One, that Shining Prince from the Hell of Dung, my cousin?_

_It's vital to her that you marry, and marry well, get properly set on your way in life –_

_Well, I suppose she's going to have to_ die _miffed, isn't she? I have chosen my way. I'm not marrying that pig – he should consider himself fortunate I don't_ turn _him into a pig, or perhaps a slug, after yesterday – I refrain mainly because slugs are decent creatures, and I've no wish to insult them – and I'm not leaving the Guild, not to please Mother, or that husband of hers..._

_...I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?_

Sachiko was sulking. She knew she had a tendency toward the sulks, but this was not the time or the place...

_You are lonely for your mother._

_Well, suppose that were true... just suppose. Then I've been lonely for her for three years. Why should the mere sight of her carriage be such a..._

_Well, why shouldn't it?_

_Anyway, what can I do about it? Nothing._

Loneliness and hurt feelings were especially disagreeable when the source of them had always before been a source of happiness.

_Yumi._

Yes. Her mother was an old story, with no happy or even conclusive ending. Yumi was the one she should be concerned about now._ And what did you just do to her?_

_I was ready to lash out. If I hadn't got away from her just then, I would have said or done something terrible. Yumi doesn't need that._

_She doesn't need to be pushed away, either._

Sachiko turned back to the road. She looked toward the column, her eyes searching, but then found that Yumi was standing behind her, only a few paces away. She'd seen, out of the corner of her eye, as Yumi was accosted by Sei-san. For some reason, she hadn't expected Yumi to wait for her, but to go with Sei-san.

Yumi was looking directly at her.

Sachiko walked to her famula.

"Yumi, I'm sorry."

Yumi nodded, and looked down. "You said we should talk to each other, Mistress."

"I was thinking of you, not me."

Sachiko almost said that. Absently. But stopped herself in time.

_Oh dear. Is that what I was thinking?_

That wasn't very nice at all.

"You don't have to tell me, Mistress," Yumi was saying. "I, I mean, if you'd rather – I don't wish to pry, or –"

"Not now," Sachiko said.

Yumi looked up, adorably puzzled. Sachiko's feelings, which seemed to have dried into a tacky, disagreeable paste at the passage of her mother's carriage, ran fluid once again, and burned within her. None of that was anything to do with Yumi. And she wanted to give Yumi this day. This beautiful spring day, this journey, the savoring of the anticipation of all the mysteries, tangible and intangible, that awaited them down the road. It was all for Yumi, now.

"It's a beautiful day," Sachiko said, "and we have a splendid walk ahead of us. My family situation is... too tedious and silly for such a day." Sachiko put out a hand.

Yumi took it.

And Sachiko was about to pull Yumi gently to her side – hesitating only because she was unsure if Yumi would want this, after Sachiko's earlier behavior – but Yumi was already wrapped around Sachiko's arm, in her customary position, before Sachiko could even flex.

_I seem to have this girl,_ Sachiko thought, looking down at the brown head leaning against her shoulder. Cherry petals were getting in Yumi's hair. The effect was so striking that Sachiko began to think that cherry trees might have their points after all. _Have I really done anything so wonderful, to deserve this?_

She put her free hand on Yumi's cheek. "I will tell you the whole story, Yumi. It's not very interesting or unusual; most everyone in the Guild could tell you a similar bloody tale if you wanted..."

"But I want to hear yours," Yumi murmured. "Because it's yours, Mistress."

_What wonderful, wonderful thing?_ Sachiko nodded. "You will hear."

* * *

Oe Hikaru had always excited admiration with her walk, which was terribly stately – just as stately as she could make it. She knew that it had been the first thing that had caught the attention of Suga-sama, for example. And now, Saionji Yukari-san and Kyougoku Kieko-san were trying to imitate it. But it was Hikaru who had been drawing compliments all through the morning, not Yukari or Kieko. Only Ayanokouji Kikuyo-san seemed not to be much interested in improving her walk. Hikaru had never really known what to make of Kikuyo-san anyway. She was one of the group, and had occasionally been useful, and always seemed ready to contribute something to whatever scheme was going forward. But at crucial times it would often seem as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Yukari-san and Kieko-san were far more engaged.

Hikaru usually didn't notice the difference much, but today seemed like a day for noticing things. No one noticed her walk when she was sitting on the grass, as she was now, and they were too busy with their own meals to pay much attention to the care with which she held herself as she ate. She felt out-of-sorts, and had since this morning. Lunch wasn't to her taste. Her friends, the element in which she moved, were annoying her. She was doing her best not to show her annoyance, but a side-effect of this was that she was quieter, and conversation kept flagging at odd moments, and Kieko-san and Yukari-san were having to do more of the work than they usually did, which was making _them_ feel out-of-sorts. And Kikuyo-san, who could normally be counted on to make at least a token effort, wasn't even trying today. She kept looking over at a grassy area nearer the pond, where a certain Dragon-level sorceress and her brand-new famula were sitting and eating their lunch. This seemed to involve an awful lot of Sachiko-sama talking with, occasionally laughing with, and even feeding her beggar-girl, and Sachiko-sama wiping the beggar-girl's face with a napkin. Sachiko-sama's giggling was restrained, but even so it was completely unnatural. A smile on that face was akin to a warm, friendly typhoon breezing gently through and making a few repairs to one's house. And whenever Sachiko-sama's gentle laugh was audible, it seemed to do something horrible to Kikuyo-san, like a blade twisting in her guts. Kikuyo-san would grit her teeth and turn positively green. She hadn't known Kikuyo-san hated Sachiko-sama so much, that the mere sound of her laughter should provoke such a reaction –

Sadako-chan, seated just behind her and to her left, said "Mistress, would you like a little more –"

"If I want anything, I'll tell you," Hikaru said coldly.

Sadako-chan fell silent.

Sadako-chan was at least reasonably presentable and bright, if hideously scarred on one cheek, and a touch too talkative for Hikaru's taste. And she obviously had some experience of being a servant, which was all to the good. But... damn it all, Hikaru was used to Mayuko. It was irksome; she'd looked forward to having Mayuko at hand, but now she had to get used to someone completely new. Oh, well. Sadako-chan would just have to do...

* * *

Sachiko and Yumi were very well with one another since the scene by the side of the road. They were still learning how to eat together, it seemed. For Sachiko mealtimes had always been orderly, careful affairs, but with Yumi beside her, it could turn chaotic at a moment's notice. Sachiko had done very well for most of the meal – eaten from boxes beside the shrine's shining, pink-petal-bestrewn ornamental pond, on a comfortable patch of grass – but then had been unable to resist feeding Yumi a bite of eel. Well, the eel was delicious, after all. But Yumi had her own, so it was hardly necessary, or sensible.

Then Yumi, in her turn, startled Sachiko by suddenly shifting her knees so as to move closer to her with her chopsticks. Sachiko managed to hold still, and opened her mouth as Yumi fed her a sweet plum. There was an expression of seriousness and concentration on Yumi's face as she did this.

As Sachiko chewed, carefully keeping her mouth closed, she exchanged a long look with Yumi.

"You are becoming bolder, I see," she said at last.

Yumi hung her head and blushed.

"I am pleased by it," Sachiko added, just in case that wasn't clear. "I was only surprised."

"Sometimes it seems as if you're my servant, Mistress," Yumi said hesitantly. "Instead of the other way around."

"Well, really, Yumi! How can you say such a thing?"

"I meant no offense, Mistress... only..." Yumi could not say what was "only"; she blushed even worse, and fell silent again.

Sachiko been startled by Yumi's observation, but hadn't meant the rebuke more than half seriously; she tried to retract it. "Well, of course you didn't, Yumi... oh, I do see how someone might get that impression –" Sachiko stopped herself. She was floundering. It was unsightly. Something about this situation made her feel playful, but she didn't really know how to play, not like this. Yumi hadn't realized Sachiko was only teasing because Sachiko had been unable to smile as she said it; she'd tried, but it had felt ghastly on her face, and she'd had to stop. She felt embarrassed and wretched on one level, not to mention frustrated at her own body's blank incomprehension of what frolicking meant. And yet the joy she felt at the sight of Yumi sitting so close to her, twining her fingers nervously in the grass and unable to stop blushing, would not go away. And she knew that she would have been able to behave more naturally if only they had been alone, but they were surrounded; the whole Order was here, and while most of them couldn't have cared less and weren't watching, someone always was.

Sachiko went for the simple and clear, her usual fallback, but wished it weren't necessary; wished she could think of a playful way of saying it: "I like to take care of Yumi."

Yumi looked up at her, and looked down again, smiling shyly.

And then there were three sweet flowers, linked at the stalks, tumbling up the gentle slope towards them as if moved by some frolicsome wind. These were the girls who had made such a ruckus in the street outside the Guild Offices that morning. Something about them made even Sachiko feel a bit more cheerful, though she was careful not to show it. They were in hysterics about something – spluttering laughter – "NO, Madoka-chan!" – "Impossible!" "Stop talking about it, Yucchan!" – and Sachiko wondered what it was, but doubted she would have understood the answer, and so did not ask.

She had never been introduced to these girls. As far as she knew they had just joined the Guild in the last month, no longer ago. She was almost certain that the middle girl was a Minamoto cousin of hers, once or twice removed. She had an awful lot of cousins, and had never met most of them.

"Good afternoon, Sachiko-sama!" they said in sweet if squealy unison. "Good afternoon, Yumi-sama!"

"Waaaaagh!" Yumi squalled in surprise. "I am not Yumi-sama – I only just joined the Guild – you do me too much honor –"

"We heard that you are a demonslayer, Yumi-sama," said the girl on the left – taller and gawkier than the other two, with strangely bushy eyebrows for a girl so young.

"My Mistress slew the demon," Yumi said, a little calmer, but still uneasy. "I only –"

"Only, nonsense," Sachiko finished. "Yumi, we both killed it. I might have prevailed without you in the end, or I might not. We won that fight together."

Yumi was twisting her fingers in the grass again. She only made a small sound of acknowledgement, "un," and didn't look up.

Shyness? Unwillingness to put herself forward, to share center stage with her mistress?

"No demon could give _you_ very much trouble, could it, Sachiko-sama?" the girl on the right said. She was terribly earnest.

"What are your names?" Sachiko asked the trio.

The middle one, with her hair gathered behind in a loose knot, said "I'm Momoko. This –" eyebrow girl – "is Madoka-chan, and this –" the girl on the right with evenly-cut shoulder-length hair – "is Yuko-chan."

"You and I are cousins, I believe?"

Momoko-chan had plainly not expected Sachiko to acknowledge the connection. She flushed with pleasure and bowed to her.

Sachiko nodded, smiling, and went on. "Well, last night was the first time I ever fought a demon, and it gave me quite enough trouble. It had me in a most terrible grip, at one point. It might have killed me, or at least maimed me, if Yumi hadn't had her familiar pull it off of me –"

"Aaaaah!" said Momoko-chan. "You have a familiar, Yumi-sama?"

Yumi still flinched under the honorific. "Nothing so grand as a – only a little creature –"

"Or a big one, at need," Sachiko added.

"I don't know where it comes from, or where it goes to –"

"Ooooh! Can we see it? Can we see it?"

"Please, Yumi-sama!"

"Is it cute? Please let us see it –"

Yumi looked terrified. She looked at Sachiko, as if for approval, or rescue.

Sachiko put a hand on Yumi's shoulder, and whispered in her ear – "I see no objection, Yumi, but it's up to you. Do you think you can? I would actually like to see the creature again."

Yumi looked back at Sachiko, obviously startled. Then her face becamed determined. "Yes, Mistress!"

She looked at the nearby pond, concentrating.

Within moments, the watery homunculus was clambering out of the pond. It seemed to dust itself off – _how does one dust off water?_ – and then it waddled sloshily over to the group. The girls made keening sounds of delight and got down on their knees to greet it. "It's so cute!" "Don't move so quickly, you'll startle it!" "Oh, don't be silly. Look, it's bowing to me!"

It did bow to them, and touched their fingers in greeting, much to their delight. It even stood in their hands and let them carry it. The girls, for all their noise and overexcitement, were very gentle with it, apologizing incessantly for this or that infinitesimal rudeness which it didn't seem to even notice; carrying it, but not taking it too far from Yumi.

Sachiko, for her part, looked on with a smile. Behind the smile there was a lot of thinking going on.

_It is a very calm and pleasant manifestation – oh, unless there's a demon to fight – but Sei is right: I don't believe I've ever seen anything like it before. Familiar animals from beyond nature, chained elementals and the like, do what they do at the command of their mistresses, or masters. But this one seems to be self-determined, mostly. Unless Yumi controls it in some fashion too subtle to detect._ She looked at Yumi, who was considerably more relaxed now, and seemed as diverted by her creature's antics as her three new friends were.

_Is it a separate creature, bound to her by a spell she doesn't remember casting? Or is it some unacknowledged aspect of herself?_

The creature would bear watching, obviously. But it seemed friendly – not the least bit sinister – oh, not that that was proof of anything, but –

Madoka was holding it, at that moment, and laughing down at it, but it was looking at Sachiko, and she was suddenly sure she recognized the set of its head, and the focus of its three watery eyes – was it _watching_ her? Considering her, as she was considering it?

What was it considering _with_? Where in all that water – any water Yumi could find, anywhere – was its mind and heart? Its spirit?

Then again, where was _any_ spirit?

The creature tapped Madoka's thumb, looking up at her, and she immediately squatted down again to place it gently on the grass.

It came to Sachiko at last and bowed. It seemed almost hesitant, and it jiggled a little.

Sachiko extended one finger to it, which it touched without hesitation.

"I am sorry I was so brusque at our first meeting," she told it pleasantly. "You were very helpful last night – indeed, you turned the tide of battle. Thank you."

The creature bowed again.

* * *

Yukari-san was addressing her. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yukari-san. I was preoccupied. What were you saying?"

"Ugh, Hikaru-san, what is the matter with you today? I wondered if you had any ideas about revenge?"

"Revenge?"

"For yesterday's insult! That monstrosity Satou Sei, who wilfully kicked liana syrup at us!"

"Clearly," Kieko-san chimed in, "such a liberty cannot go unpunished."

Hikaru remembered insisting yesterday, in the first flush of her rage, that banishment to the frozen north was the only possible response to such an outrage as Satou-san had committed. She had calmed down since then, however.

"But Satou Sei-sama," Yukari-san went on, "is protected by powerful spirits from the low-rent hell that spawned her, so direct action will not be efficacious."

_A very convenient way of saying 'she's more powerful than the three of us put together, as well as being fiendishly clever and quite, quite mad, so we don't have the face to challenge her directly,'_ Hikaru thought, but didn't say. To say such a thing outright was against the rules of the game. Though anything might be said in private to Mayuko, of course; Mayuko listened and didn't repeat what one said to others. She could tell Mayuko later, and have a chuckle over it –

She bit her lip. She couldn't tell Mayuko anything for at least two months. She'd left Mayuko behind.

She shook her head a little. This was all so inconvenient. Mayuko was not very quick or attractive. It was just that she was handy. She took over a lot of tedious tasks Hikaru would ordinarily have had to do for herself, or get a famula for. Unfortunately, this kind of task multiplied on a Questioning, so that Mayuko would have been even more useful than usual. There were tasks Hikaru had always had to do, not only for herself, but also for her former mistress, on a Questioning. So she had been obliged to find a famula this morning. She had meant to claim Mayuko as her famula, which was a bit unorthodox as they were both Dragons, but she felt sure Suga-sama could easily have smoothed the way for her with Fujiwara-dono. Then, at the last minute, Mayuko had been dragooned into playing the nursemaid for one of the Enemy, and so Hikaru had had to go to the lower dormitory, inquire for the Rats and Oxen who were still unattached, and pick one more or less at random – one had been a positive mendicant, a shambling girl with short hair that looked as if she'd cut it with a knife, and Hikaru had really had to wonder what the Guild was coming to lately...

* * *

As they ate, Rikki kept stealing glances at Eriko-sama.

She was waiting for the unpleasantness to begin. _Any moment now, she's going to start criticizing the way I eat, or the way I walk, or the way I cut my hair._ Her old mistress had had much to say on these and other subjects. "You shouldn't cut your hair yourself," she had told her repeatedly. "You don't look cute at all. You should get someone who knows how, if you're going to cut it. Anyway, why don't you just let it grow out? I deplore this Guild custom of doing odd things to one's hair." Rikki's old mistress had deplored many, many things; in the end she had deplored Rikki, and the Guild as a whole, so much that she had left it, and Rikki, to marry a man Rikki knew she hated.

She had thought that was it, for her. That she would just struggle ahead, learn what she could, fit herself into things in whatever way seemed possible, even if it was just tidying up around the Guild offices, or wielding a sword on missions overseas. She was pretty good at the sword, thanks to Rei-sama, even if she was thumb-fingered at everything else. She had thought no one would ever risk taking her as a soror mystica or even a famula ever again, and even if someone was fool enough to ask her, she would fend them off. Make them all leave her alone.

Then, this morning, when she was about to start her cleaning duties, broom in hand – suddenly there was this black-cloaked woman with a friendly smile, saying, "Now, you don't really want to hang about here, do you? You'd rather go on an adventure!"

And there she was, promising obedience to this strange woman, accepting her rule. All the things she'd planned to say in such an eventuality seemed meaningless. She just knew, looking into those gently humorous eyes, that no matter what argument she made, she would lose.

She had felt desperate. She hadn't dared hope she would ever go on a Questioning and now, almost without warning, she was going on this one. She felt wobbly, unready; she was going into the unknown, after all. She'd heard stories about past Questionings, and had found many of them unbelievable. And she was making the journey with a woman she already knew she couldn't really defy, and feared that she'd only found another heel to be ground under.

But that had turned out not to be the case. Eriko-sama seemed ready to let her go her own way. But she stood close, making sure she remembered that there was an arm there to support her, if necessary. Walking up the Nijo Road with her, everything around her strange and unfamiliar _including_ her mistress, she had felt unaccountably safe and protected.

She couldn't stand it.

She kept waiting for Eriko-sama to turn out to be like Michiko-sama. She kept waiting for the tyranny to show.

"Would you like to try a pickled plum?"

"I – I don't care about pickled plums!" Rikki turned her head away.

Now, why had she said that? She loved pickled plums. But she hadn't been able to afford any – the basic rice-and-dried-fish trail rations were provided by the Guild but otherwise Questioners were expected to live off the land, and other foods were available but cost extra. She was scalded by her own poverty and she didn't want to lean – she didn't want people to think she needed anybody...

"Oh, well. I'll just set them here. If you want one, take one. If you don't, then don't." Eriko-sama set the little ceramic jar on the grass between them. "Now, where did I put that..." She turned away, rummaging in her bag.

Pickled plums.

In easy reach.

_I could just snatch one – or two – or three – and Eriko-sama would never notice..._

There was a brief struggle, which her stomach won. Rikki snatched. One – two – three pickled plums.

Holding all three in her mouth at once, hiding them, trying to stretch her lips just right so the shape of her face wouldn't change noticeably, she harbored two plums on her tongue, and bit into the third so that it burst, sour and salty, a flavor of home...

Eriko-sama turned back from her bag with another jar. "And here – my very own treasure! Tomiko-san's barbecued eels!"

Rikki almost moaned. _Barbecued eels from Tomiko the Crab... no one makes them better._

"Would you like to try one, Rikki?"

_Say yes, idiot,_ her stomach told her. But she couldn't. She'd already refused the plums. If she did have to be ruled by this woman, the only way she could keep her self-reliance was not to accept any favors or kindnesses from her. Besides, she hadn't finished swallowing the plums yet, and couldn't until Eriko-sama turned away again. The rest of her just sat there, glowering, while her mouth and stomach wept.

"I'll just set them here, then... now, did I bring that book of poems? I particularly wanted to show you..." She turned away again.

The eels lay there haphazardly in a loosened thick-leaf wrapping. You couldn't really tell how many there were...

Rikki had swallowed the last of the plums. Now – one eel. Two. Quickly, but carefully, she put them in her mouth. It would be embarrassing to choke on one. At any moment Eriko-sama might turn, and Rikki would be caught, but she had to check for bones...

_Delicious!_

Then, as she worked the as-it-turned-out boneless eel mass in her mouth for every last bit of flavor, she saw, to her horror, that the sauce underneath, where the two eels had sat, was of a strikingly more vivid color than the surrounding bits, and there was a bit of bay leaf poking out. Eriko-sama was sure to notice –

Eriko-sama turned back, the two ends of a small scroll deftly balanced in the crooks of her fingers like chopsticks. "This book is just small enough to manage one-handed, which is good, because I don't want to get sauce on it. Now for an eel... Mmm! Quite, quite delicious. Are you sure you got enough to eat, Rikki?"

"I'm full," Rikki said, quite truthfully.

"That's good. You're awfully thin. You want feeding up. Now..."

* * *

"Hikaru-san!"

Hikaru came back to her little circle from what seemed like a great distance. Yukari-san was babbling at her again. "Oh, what is it, you pest?"

"Why, Hikaru-san! I am _not_ a pest," Yukari-san cried.

"Really!" Kieko-san. "Whatever is the matter with you?"

And Kikuyo-san, who had not spoken yet that day as far as Hikaru remembered, said, "She's missing Mayuko-chan, obviously."

There was one of those busy silences. Kieko-san and Yukari-san looked at one another with wisdom dawning in their eyes. Hikaru wondered whether to deny it vehemently, or if that would just be to give the ridiculous idea too much credit, and if she shouldn't just pretend that she hadn't heard it, while at the same time she entertained serious thoughts of strangling Kikuyo-san in the night. Kikuyo-san, for her part, continued to stare up the slope, for all the world as if it had only been a passing thought, and she had no intention of speaking for the rest of the day.

"Oh, my!" Yukari-san gasped.

"My word," Kieko-san gasped.

"What is all this gasping in aid of?" Hikaru asked her friends as calmly as she could manage, shooting for a Fujiwara-dono-like objectivity in her tone. "Kikuyo-san is clearly hallucinating, and you act as if you have both had a proposal of marriage from Prince Suguru. Are you _very_ bored? I am sorry for you, my sweethearts."

"Oh, you needn't cover your confusion, Hikaru-san," Yukari-san said in a mischievously soothing voice. "I'm sure the exertion is too much for you, and it's completely transparent besides. At any rate, you mustn't grieve so at losing your servant. You have Sadako-chan to clean up after you now!"

"Yes," Kieko-san said, "and Sadako-chan is ever so much better, isn't she?"

"What _are_ you blithering about?" Hikaru wondered.

"Yes, Mayuko-chan always struck me as decidedly slatternly," Yukari-san said.

"Good-natured, but slow. Not exactly an ornament to one's household."

"And the good thing about Sadako-chan is that she knows she's only a servant. Mayuko-chan would get somewhat above herself at times."

"At times! Yes!" Kieko-san's voice was all astonishment. "It seemed at times as if she almost thought she was one of the group! Well, then all we could do was slap her down –"

"You never do really attend to that, Hikaru-san," Yukari-san scolded mildly. "We're always having to discipline your servant for you –"

"And having to watch tears roll down that big stupid face of hers is really the most provoking thing –"

"Are you quite finished?" Hikaru said coldly.

Yukari-san and Kieko-san fell silent, only smirking at her.

"As to Satou Sei-sama," she went on, "I have had one or two thoughts. Listen..."

And she _hadn't_ had any thoughts about revenge, any serious ones anyway, but now her rage fed the fires of her invention, and she improvised. After a few moments even Kikuyo-san turned her head to look at her, and listened intently...

* * *

By prearrangement, Sachiko and Yumi met Satou-san and Youko-sama, and of course Fujiwara-dono, at the torii just as lunch was finishing and it was time to continue the journey. Eriko-sama had agreed to ride herd on everyone else, and as she gathered them together into a column once again, it was wonderful to see the alacrity with which her orders were obeyed. Eriko-sama seemed quite calm and happy, and in her element, her temper wonderfully improved after her conversation with her husband that morning. There was a smaller girl at her side Sachiko had seen about the Guild offices but never spoken to – untidy, hacked-up hair – probably Eriko-sama's new soror mystica; Eriko-sama had a bizarre yet unerring taste in people. This new girl was glaring coldly at anyone who looked like disobeying her mistress, and fingering the just-visible hilt of a sword poking out of her robes, so there was still an unnerving atmosphere lingering in Eriko-sama's vicinity, in spite of her recovered equanimity.

"Now, Yumi-kun," Fujiwara-dono began. She cleared her throat, "Hem, hem. Now, Yumi-kun. You do know why I've asked for the pleasure of your attendance at this meeting, don't you? Eh?"

"Because demons worry you? I mean! –" Yumi covered her mouth. "Because – well, demons are worrying, and – they worry me, anyway, and…" Yumi trailed off, pinkly.

The whole meeting held its breath. Sachiko put an arm around Yumi's shoulders.

"The first answer was best. _Startlingly_ direct," Fujiwara-dono said. "An excellent answer, dear Yumi-kun. Demons worry any sensible person. If we were not ourselves but our savage ancestors, for example, you probably would have been killed last night, assuming you'd survived the fight with the demon in the first place. A young lady who attracts demons in this whorish fashion is not a young lady whose acquaintance one wants to cultivate, but rather a young lady whose acquaintance one wants to set fire to, dance around shrieking, stamp on frantically, and cover with a layer of salt. These impulses lie deep in the human soul –"

"Fujiwara-dono –"

"Please hold your comments for the moment, Ogasawara-kun – deep, as I say, in the human soul, and could almost be called the basis of human society. People cannot engage in Art, dear Yumi-kun – poetry, music, literature, gardening, perfumery, hats – or in, er, commerce, I suppose – if there are demons leaping about the place, snacking on one's children, defecating on expensive domiciles, or playing needlessly violent games of skill with one's shipping.

"Fortunately, one has rather more craft for managing a demon than one's savage ancestors did, to say nothing of one's more civilized but sadly helpless contemporaries. Therefore, it is _not_ necessary to set fire to you –"

"Fujiwara-dono!"

"You will get your innings, Ogasawara-kun; I _did_ promise. – Not necessary to set fire to you, as I say, and I'm just as well pleased, as setting fire to girls is a distasteful activity and one which should be _eschewed altogether_. – Better, Ogasawara-kun?"

"It should have gone without saying, Fujiwara-dono," Sachiko-said coldly.

"Sometimes I have to speak out, Ogasawara-kun. My character demands it. Now. I will first ask you, Yumi-kun, if you can tell us more of your previous life than you were able to when I examined you the day before yesterday?"

"No, Fujiwara-dono."

"Nothing?"

"I've been thinking about it, as Satou-sama asked me to," Yumi said. "I still don't remember where I came from. But you're right to say I attract demons. They've been following me, for as long as I can remember. Months, I think. I've avoided them, mostly. The one we fought last night I think is the one I've seen most often, it was telling the truth about that, it's been with me for a long time... though I didn't realize it was with me when I slept…" Yumi shivered.

"Can you describe some of the other ones you've seen?" Fujiwara-dono wondered.

"It isn't easy. They change shape all the time. And sometimes it's just something horrible, like a bush grinning at me with brown teeth, or a bird swooping down and laughing in my ear. They like to startle me… they like to watch me jump…" Yumi was looking at her feet.

Sachiko tightened her hand on Yumi's shoulder. She wanted to kill them all. Right now. She was very pleased to reflect that she'd punctured one with a spear of flame.

Fujiwara-dono appeared to be deep in thought. Behind them, Eriko-sama had everyone in a kind of rough formation, and was smiling at Fujiwara-dono.

Fujiwara-dono turned, and strolled out through the torii, for all the world as if she was just taking a musing little walk that might go in circles. But she took it on the Nijo Road, and the land was showing definite signs now of moving upwards. Ahead, the road began to slope up, and the darkness under the trees beckoned.

The column followed.

Presently, Fujiwara-dono said, "'The coming wars.' Tell me anything that comes to mind when you hear that phrase, Yumi-kun."

"Nothing," Yumi said sadly. "I want to help, Fujiwara-dono –"

"They didn't confide that in you. Probably not… I have a perhaps over-clever reluctance to take the phrase at its face value. Demons are notoriously fond of tricks, and I can't think of anything that would please them more than the thought that they'd sent me down the wrong road. It may have been perfectly accurate. The demon seemed to be very excited when it let the phrase fall, so I rather doubt it was a crafty improvisation… Other questions occur, Yumi-kun. For example, though a novice sorceress, you have been observed to use some very advanced magic in extremis. This waterish famulus you are able to call up is the prime example. And Satou-san tells me that when running from a determined pursuit, you can give yourself an impressive lead in a very rum fashion, which seemed to involve levitating slightly, disappearing, and reappearing a considerable distance ahead."

Yumi sent Sachiko a shamed look, and then looked down. "I don't... really know..."

"Do you remember being taught how to do these things?" Fujiwara-dono was speaking very gently. The bumptious, provoking grandame of the meeting's beginning was nowhere to be seen.

"No, Fujiwara-dono. Though I did – almost – remember a person who might have taught me. There was a voice – oh, I don't know!"

There was silence.

"Do you want me to leave the Guild, Fujiwara-dono?" Yumi asked, still looking down.

"She doesn't," Sachiko said. "She knows I would leave the Guild too."

"Sachiko, _please_ restrain yourself," Youko-sama said wearily.

"Ogasawara-kun, restrain yourself, and I _do_ know you would leave the Guild too," Fujiwara-dono said, confirming both Sachiko and Youko-sama, to the pleasure of neither.

Satou-san spoke up: "I think what Fujiwara-dono is thinking, o-child-who-goes-like-the-wind, is that you might be either a great asset to the Guild, or a great danger, and we simply don't know enough about you to be sure which it is. You seem to mean well, but the fact is that _you_ don't know enough about you either, to be sure what that well-meaning amounts to."

Sachiko saw a tear fall from Yumi's chin. She glared at Satou-san, feeling angry enough to fight her for the second time in their acquaintance. Satou-san took no notice, and went on to douse the flames: "But Yumi – as my own character demands it be said – if Fujiwara-dono did tell you to leave the Guild, then I would leave it too."

Yumi looked up at Satou-san, startled, her wide eyes shining.

Satou-san nodded. "I would go with you and Sachiko. But this is all moot, as Fujiwara-dono isn't going to tell you any such thing."

"The upshot, as I know very well after last night, would be a mass exodus of the Mountain Lily contingent," Fujiwara-dono chuckled. "And the Mountain Lily is the last best hope of the Guild. I will not have all my most skilled and most promising sorceresses leaving. There's been quite enough of that lately, and the Guild overall is in a deplorable condition as a result... Well, I wasn't expecting to learn a lot. But later today, Yumi-kun, you and I will have a private conversation. We will see if you and I together can come a little closer to the fount of your being, which will necessitate finding out where it's hidden. If you will continue to go over in your mind as much of your past prior to three days ago as you can recall, I will be much obliged to you."

"I'll do my best, Fujiwara-dono."

Youko-sama surprised Sachiko, and apparently Yumi as well, by giving Yumi a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She gave Satou-san a meaning look, and moved ahead slightly, Fujiwara-dono at her side. They were taking the head of the column as the expedition began to move up the mountain in earnest.

"I must take the rearguard," Satou-san said. "Sneak attacks come from the rear, and they consider me best able to cope with sneaks. Set a thief to catch a thief, as you'll have heard. Yumi, ready yourself for your conversation with Fujiwara-dono. These things can be a drain on one's force, but it's necessary, you understand?"

"Yes. Thank you, Satou-sama," Yumi said, looking up at her.

Satou-san seemed confused. "Why, what for, Magic Feets?"

"For last night. Shimako-san told me how you learned of the demon, and called on everyone, and came after me first yourself. I can never repay the debt I owe you."

Satou-san smiled – a completely genuine, non-jokey smile. Rare on that face, in Sachiko's experience, but not unheard of. "Why, you're welcome, Yumi sweet. If Sachiko doesn't mind it, I'll tell you how to repay me."

Sachiko's brows drew down, but she nodded. Experimentally.

"How, Satou-sama?"

"When anyone needs help, we all help. Always. That doesn't hold with all sorceresses, but it holds with us, in this little club we're all in, the Mountain Lily Gang of however-many-it-is-at-the-moment, I expect we'll find out on this Questioning. It started with just me and Youko, when I first came here. Then Eriko joined us. And none of the younger sisters has disappointed us yet. If one of us needs help, then we all help. Sometimes, it's something a person has to handle on her own, like Sachiko's lonesome duty last winter. Then you stay out of her way. But you make sure, before you leave her alone with her troubles, that that's the right thing to do. All right?"

"Yes, Satou-sama," Yumi said. "I'll do my best."

* * *

And they were moving up the mountain.

In truth it was more an outsized hill than a mountain. Still, the younger girls who were unused to walking great distances were whining a good deal now, and embarrassing their mistresses with complaints of weariness, and sores. Poor Madoka-chan, Momoko-chan and Yuko-chan, who had been rambunctious at first, and swinging themselves around on the trunks of the smaller trees by the roadside, began soon to labor. Their mistresses walked behind them, smiling and chatting amongst themselves – "Quiet, isn't it?" "Nice and peaceful, yes." Some girls were being tough. Shimako-san was hauling herself gamely up the stone steps, apparently determined not to disgrace her mistress. Noriko-chan wasn't complaining either, but Rei-sama seemed to be giving her a lot of help, a strong arm to hang onto much of the time, everything short of actually carrying her... Yumi noticed, after a time, that there were occasional glares and sardonic smiles being sent her way, and wondered why that was – what had she done to them all? – when she realized: all the City-bred young ladies were having such a lot of trouble with this relentless upward road. And here was Yumi, simply climbing them. Only now beginning to break a sweat, but showing no sign of slowing.

Her cheeks, formerly pink with exertion, now burned red with shame... she was revealing her low background by climbing well and quickly. She forced herself to look at Sachiko-sama, sure that a gentle but nevertheless painful reproof was waiting for her, and wanting to have it over –

But Sachiko-sama was smiling at her warmly.

_Could she be... proud of me?_

"You're sure-footed, Yumi," her mistress said a moment later. "And you have excellent endurance. I'm glad. I won't have to leave you behind when I go out scouting. And I can teach you many wonders of forest and mountain." She laid a hand on Yumi's shoulder. "And I hope you'll teach me what you know, too. You must have learned much, in your travels."

Happiness blazed through Yumi like a wildfire. At that moment, she would not have traded her beggar's legs for the noblest family in the world.

The trees were tall, and close, and the dusty road wound between them, snaking up the mountainside. You could seldom see more than ten paces ahead of you on the path you must follow, and so little sunlight came down through the trees that when one had gone for a time without shaft or beam, one wondered if night had fallen early. Yumi knew better, of course; she had wandered much in forests, and she knew that if night had fallen they wouldn't be able to see anything. Forests could be frightening places, even in places where the light was better, like where they were now. The shafts of sunlight danced so, between the great trees, that it often seemed as if they were alive. Up ahead, there was a dark place, where only a few beams made it through, but even these were made agile by dancing leaves, and the branches looked like great arms waving... then, improbably, like great legs shifting position... and there were horrendous screeching noises from that direction –

There was a giant coming through the trees.

The dark thick trunks and the long shadows they cast seemed to have joined up suddenly, so that this spindly, ungainly creature, a great stick-insect shaped like a man, was dancing in the light between the trees, dancing toward the sorceresses, shrieking horribly in many voices.

There were many answering shrieks on the road, and an atmosphere of panic. A few of the Dragons seemed to be all right, and were shouting orders to their flapping, terrified sorores and famulae, and assuming defensive positions. Rei-sama was ready, chanting, and weaving a couple of blades of grass with one hand – _why?_ Yumi wondered, remembering seeing Sachiko-sama do something similar – and Noriko-san was steadfast beside her. Eriko-sama too, though her soror seemed less confident; her sword was out, but she seemed to have doubts about its possible efficacy. But for the most part, it was a rout, girls and young women running in circles, and hiding behind trees and rocks, and attempting to hide behind one another.

Yumi, for her part, was just behind Sachiko-sama and to her right, and at her mistress's command held onto her right shoulder. "Good. Don't let go of me," Sachiko-sama said in a clipped voice. Yumi knelt there, ready to obey Sachiko-sama's next command... there was no water here. She wondered if she could make a creature of earth? She hadn't tried to turn the key of earth yet. There hadn't been time for another magic lesson since the first one yesterday morning.

She put her free hand through the mulch of dead leaves from autumns gone by, and touched earth.

"Yumi?" Sachiko-sama. She wasn't looking at Yumi. _Did she feel me, the way I feel her when she does magic?_

* * *

Sachiko wondered if now was the time for Yumi to be experimenting with the keys. The thing was coming closer, and though it was less repulsive than the demon of yesterday, it was, in a way, more horrible. Trees and shadows grinding together with deep groaning sounds, fresh early-spring leaves sticking out on puny branches here and there, bouncing like hairs, but larger, worse. The wrongness of the thing was like ice down the back of the neck. One kept thinking that it couldn't be real, that it was the opposite of imagining giants in the trees, that if you could only see it at the right angle, in the right light, it _wouldn't_ be real, it would turn out to be just wind and sunlight playing tricks –

"Mistress?"

Yumi didn't sound scared at all. Only confused. Odd, under the circumstances.

Sachiko turned her head and saw something odder - the water creature back again – only now it was an earth creature: the same exact shape, only sculpted in earth and mud and the occasional dead leaf shape, gossamer-thin, dissolved almost, only veins in spots to bear witness to the leaf it had been; one was molded over the crest on top of the little creature's head like a broad hat –

And it was dancing. In Yumi's palm. A cheerful little dance. Foot moves briskly behind other foot, then the feet switch, back and forth like that, kicking, and then a little jump in the air with the little arms outstretched as if to say "hey!" and then back to foot-behind-foot.

The two of them just sat there for a moment, staring at the eccentric little show-off in Yumi's palm.

_Wind and sunlight, or perhaps –_

Sachiko turned back toward the approaching giant monster, and stood.

The monster was squeezing between two trees, pushing outward at the great trunks to make a wider passage. This made a rending, groaning noise, a great rustling of leaves, and a noisy rain of tinder and hard fruit.

Sachiko waited politely until it had got through, and was almost within stomping distance of the party on the road. The screams behind her, already loud enough for her taste, were increasing still further in volume –

Then she said, "All right, Sei-san. You can stop, now."

The giant paused a moment, as if considering this.

Then it wasn't there anymore, and never had been. There were only great trees, where trees had stood since before living memory, and only moved in a strong wind. Though you _could_ almost see, where two trees stood close together and their trunks had grown into one another in such a way, that if you _squinted_, in the right light, it might almost look as if...

And Sei-san stepped out from behind one of them. She seemed pleasantly surprised. "Oh, very well done, Sachiko. I was wondering if I was going to have step on somebody before the light dawned somewhere. You shall have a sweet!"

Anything else she might have said was drowned out by the infuriated chatter that arose from the sorceresses on the road. A few of them even moved forward, toward Sei-san, as if they meant her some violence. One actually put a hand out to try to shove her, but ended up with her arm pushed up her back and yelping with astonishment. Youko-sama was there, pulling one girl back, and yelling "Stop this nonsense! Stop it this instant –"

Then, Fujiwara-dono was between Sei-san and the column. She gave them all one of her mild, vaguely inquisitive looks.

The few who had moved forward now moved back, skulking hastily, to their places on the road. Sei-san released the one who'd come up to her – Sachiko recognized her as Ayanokouji Kikuyo. And Ayanokouji-kun executed a style of movement Sachiko couldn't remember having seen before: a kind of cringing run.

Fujiwara-dono continued to look at them all. There were many shamefaced grimaces, and silence.

Fujiwara-dono said, "We'll just pretend that little demonstration didn't happen, I think. And anyone who really resents our prank should keep in mind that the next time something big comes out of the woods, it might not be a prank at all; that we have left the City behind and we're all alone out here; that we survive only if we are prepared to repel threats _together_... There will be training each day, and more drills like this, at odd moments. At least until I feel you're up to dealing with the wilds, and perhaps longer."

And she went back to the path, and continued up it, past everybody. None of them seemed able to look her in the eye.

Satou-san was back on the path too. Her smile was much subdued, but not gone altogether.

"They attacked Satou-sama," Yumi said, angrily.

"Why, yes," Sachiko said. "No one likes being frightened, and no one likes being fooled."

"Will they try to attack her when she sleeps? Oughtn't we to guard her?"

Sachiko turned to her famula, startled. Yumi seemed really concerned and upset. "I wouldn't worry about it, Yumi."

As Sei-san drew nearer, they heard an amazing litany: everybody was apologizing to her. Even the ones who hadn't actually attacked her. And she, graciously and without fuss – but with the occasional sly crack – was accepting all of them.

* * *

Sei was pleased by the general attitude. She knew most of the rest of the Guild was a bit dubious where she was concerned – she was regarded as an oddity, and also as a source of fear – but in the main, she was on good enough terms with everybody, and she preferred to keep it that way. She tore herself away from the cheerful trio of Momoko, Madoka and Yuko, who stood in a little group before her, heads bowed – "We didn't attack you," Momoko-chan was saying, "but we were angry enough, and you were doing it for our own good" – really, these girls were all that was charming, and dutiful, and, well, unnecessary. Sei was pretty sure she'd seen someone heading off into some nearby trees that she ought to follow...

A little cluster of pines, and there was the sun over a ridge, and a white-robed figure sitting on a rock alone. She was clasping her arms over her stomach as if it hurt her, and her head was bowed. She was weeping.

"Kikuyo?"

The girl jumped, and swiveled her head to glare at Sei.

"Did I hurt your arm?"

"No. Leave me alone."

"Kikuyo –"

"Don't call me that! Call me Ayanokouji-san, if you must speak to me at all! You're too familiar! You're like that with everybody! I hate you!"

Sei sat down on the rock next to her. "No, you don't."

"I do!"

"No, you don't. What have I ever done to you? Why would you hate me?"

"Because you –" Kikuyo looked away. "Leave me alone."

Sei looked at her. She knew what it was, of course. Kikuyo didn't seem to know how obvious she was, to Sei at least. Kikuyo didn't have a lot of use for Rei or Yoshino either, and none at all for Youko. She _despised_ Youko. She hated anyone who got close to Sachiko, and that was her story. _Heaven only knows how she feels about Yumi._

But Sei could see no good in telling Kikuyo this. Kikuyo knew it already, for one thing, and she thought no-one else did, for another. That was her one consolation, and Sei didn't want to take it away from her.

"I'll leave you alone, for now," she said. "If that's really what you want. I'll only tell you: you have a friend in me, Kikuyo, should you ever happen to need one."

Kikuyo turned to glare at Sei again, but she couldn't keep it up. It seemed that she had kept some part of herself sufficiently free from bitterness that kindness could still reach her, could get over her guard. Tears welled in her eyes, and she bowed her head again.

"I'll tell you one other thing: you and I are both going to have to make up our minds before very long."

Sei patted Kikuyo gently on the shoulder, and stood.

She walked – slowly, deliberately – back toward the road.

And before she reached it, she found that Kikuyo was walking at her side. _Still not looking at me. But it's a start._

Kikuyo shared the rearguard with Sei for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

The sun was westering for certain.

The mountain road was erratic in character, occasionally dipping, occasionally humping, now choked with stones and boulders one had to climb over, now disappearing altogether, leaving only grass, dirt, stones; only to reappear further around the ridge. Keeping to it was as much of a challenge, almost, as doing without it would have been.

Yumi walked next to Fujiwara-dono. Ahead of them, Mizuno-sama was leading the way, and far behind them, she knew Satou-sama was bringing up the rear. Everyone was keeping an eye peeled diligently, most wanting to prove to Fujiwara-dono that they'd learned their lesson, or to prove that Fujiwara-dono was _wrong_ and they hadn't needed any lessons, and they were _fine_.

"As long as they are on their toes," Fujiwara-dono had said earlier, "I don't really care which it is."

But most of the time Yumi wasn't aware of all these other people. Walking with Fujiwara-dono was like inhabiting another world, in a way. The weather had seemed to change, as if a cloud had come down to cover the mountain, and Fujiwara-dono was the only other person she could see. The cloud lifted, and they were all alone, and even the City in the valley behind and below them was no longer visible. It seemed that even the mountain they were walking on was higher, rockier, with snows at the peak. And sometimes it seemed that they weren't walking on a mountain at all, and it was hard to tell when the land had changed… They saw strange things. Once they were walking by a river, and millions and millions of butterflies flocked together over the water, so close that their wings brushed against each other, as they bobbed and floated above the river's surface. The layer of butterflies between the two banks was more than twice as deep as the height of a man as they made their way upstream like a blizzard of falling flower petals. The river seemed draped in mist for mile after mile, in the dying daylight, so dense that the river was hardly visible. Then the sun set, and the butterflies all dropped into the water and drifted downstream, and the river looked like bolts of white silk were being rinsed in it. Then they went around a bush where the river was no longer visible, and Yumi heard music, and then there was a procession of barefooted persons bearing an elaborate horned, whiskered, antennae'd parade dragon up the slope ahead of them. Their bare feet were all she could see of them, as the rest of them was draped in brown and grey robes and their faces were concealed by large, wooden, starkly painted masks of anger, ecstasy, or lunacy. Their feet were green, for some reason. The light of the sun was coming from another direction than it had been when it was setting over the butterfly river. Then Fujiwara-dono asked a question, and something about the tone of her voice made Yumi look around, and everybody was there again, and Mount Hiei was as she remembered it. The worst thing about those moments away was not being able to see Sachiko-sama, but somehow, she never felt that Sachiko-sama wasn't there.

This was one of those moments when it seemed that everyone else had disappeared, and the whole terrain had altered; cloud cover was so thick that it was almost as dark as night except for the occasional flash of lightning from the clouds, and two spheres of free-floating lightning that danced, chasing each other, around a nearby peak, and the two of them were descending into a valley which was even darker. And Fujiwara-dono, who had made a constant, gentle refrain of "Does this look familiar?" and "You've seen _this_ place before, surely," _wasn't_ saying it this time, but Yumi could tell that she was thinking it, and, well, as a matter of fact, it _was_ familiar. It seemed to her that the last time she'd seen this landscape, she'd been running for her life, and she was afraid now to turn and look behind, lest she see what she had then been running from... had this been her home?

"No, but not far from home."

She, Yumi, had said those words. Dreamily.

"Next valley over?" Fujiwara-dono said nonchalantly.

"Mmmm... a little further off," Yumi heard herself say. "I think I was at least a day's journey out... oh... is it still behind me?"

"It is," Fujiwara-dono said. "But you don't have to worry about it now."

"I don't?"

"It has been slowly losing the power it had to kill you. It might hurt you still. But if, in the end, it loses all power..."

"The pain would be worth enduring," Yumi finished.

"Exactly."

And once again, they were walking with everybody. The sun was angling through the trees in an almost-sunset way, and they were rounding the mountain. Looking back, they could still catch the occasional glimpse, through the trees and over them, of Heian Kyo, almost filling the valley far below, but soon it would disappear from view.

Yumi was walking with Fujiwara-dono. And then she found that Sachiko-sama was at her other hand.

"How long have you been there, Mistress?"

"Oh, quite a while now."

"You didn't say anything!"

"Fujiwara-dono seemed to be making progress. I didn't want to interfere."

Sachiko-sama had a face made for gambles, but Yumi thought she was beginning to be able to tell when Sachiko-sama was upset, even when she was purposely keeping her face calm. If she was _too_ cool, when you might otherwise expect a gentle look, or even a small smile…

Yumi wrapped herself around Sachiko-sama's arm, and pressed her head against Sachiko-sama's shoulder.

And she heard Sachiko-sama sigh in relief.

When she looked around, Fujiwara-dono was gone. She found her at the head of the column again, chatting amiably with Mizuno-sama.

"Be sure to thank her later," Sachiko-sama told her. "That takes some energy, what she was doing with you. I've never done it, but I know that most kinds of deep magic can finish a person off for the day."

"Is that all we're going to do? Only... I thought there would be more questions, and – I still don't know what the demons are planning, and –"

"You remembered something. Yes?"

Yumi was mystified. "Yes..."

"She expects you to think about what you remembered, at odd moments. And you will find associations, other little things you remember, connected with it. You will remember little by little. It will be very slow, at first. But your remembering will gather speed as you go on."

"Should I tell you, Mistress? About –"

Sachiko-sama gently laid a finger across Yumi's lips. Yumi immediately fell silent, looking up into dark blue eyes, in which a tiny glint of the setting sun coming in over the mountains north of Heian Kyo was reflected. The effect was slightly eerie, but not unpleasant.

"Yumi, they are _your_ memories," Sachiko-sama said very quietly. "They are yourself... I am a very private person, as you may have noticed, and invasions of privacy are a horror to me. I do want to know. I want to know all about you, my mysterious one. But first I want you to think about your memories, and see what other memories follow on, and decide for yourself whether you want to share them with me. They are yours to share, not mine to command. I am your mistress, but that doesn't mean I own your soul."

_But you do, you do,_ Yumi wanted to say. But she didn't say it. Sachiko-sama's words seemed to put a strange distance between them, a distinction Yumi didn't feel was really there. But Yumi knew that Sachiko-sama had spoken these words out of concern for her, and out of a need to do what was right, and Yumi would not gainsay them.

"I will think about it, Mistress," Yumi said. "As you wish. But I feel sure that I will tell you in the end."

"When you are ready. I will listen. I am not as good a listener as Fujiwara-dono, but I will try."

Arm in arm, they moved on along the fragmentary, deceptive mountain road.

* * *

Night was falling rapidly as they came around to the northeast face of Mount Hiei. Heian Kyo was now south and west of them, and therefore directly behind the mountain, hidden from view. Dominating the basin to the northeast was a huge body of water. The immensity of it glimmered and danced with the light of a moon nearly at the full set in a great field of uncountable stars, as the last of the daylight faded in the west.

Yumi said, "Mistress, is it the sea?"

Sachiko-sama said, "No, Yumi. Lake Biwa."

And then, the stars and the moon began to be obscured by black clouds rolling rapidly in. There was a distant rumble of thunder.

This development was the cause of much consternation. The Dragons did their best to remain calm, but many of the Rats and Oxen were most disturbed. There was a sudden movement towards collecting in a knot or cluster, here on the ridge, which was halted by Youko-sama and Sei-san shouting, from their respective positions, "Keep formation! Keep formation, there!" "Calmly, calmly, my lovelies. Take heart! It's always darkest before the dawn. And before the lightning."

"Mistress," Yumi whimpered.

"Hush, Yumi," Sachiko said, a little sternly. "We're all right."

"Time to pitch camp for the night, wouldn't you say?" Sei-san called from the rear of the column. "We want to keep good order, but I don't want to get wet either."

"There isn't a good spot anywhere in reach," Eriko-sama pointed out. "Relatively level land is considered best, especially in bad weather."

"But what were we _going_ to do, Mistress?" That was Touko-chan.

"The plan was to press on for the valley below, where there are all sorts of suitable spots, but I doubt we'll make it now," Youko-sama said.

Oe Hikaru, behind Sachiko, was muttering something about incompetence and bad planning. Sachiko turned to look at her, with a raised eyebrow, and the muttering ceased.

Fujiwara-dono was contributing surprisingly little to this discussion. She was looking around and tapping her chin in a thoughtful manner, and humming her odd, repetitive little tune.

At last she said, "Everyone? Be quiet and follow me."

And she left the path. The direction she took was to the southwest – further up the mountain.

Everyone followed, of course. Youko-sama first, Sei-san waiting so that she would be at the rearguard again.

"Why are we going up again, Mistress?" Yumi asked – mostly curious, though with perhaps a hint of being ill-used. It had been a long day of walking. Sachiko was tired too, though she wasn't about to admit to it.

The only thing Sachiko could make of it was that she might be taking them up to one of the monasteries of Enryaku-ji, which had protected, if you listened to _them_, Heian Kyo from the evil influences of the northeast direction, the "Demon's Gate," since the City's founding many ages ago.

"Really, Mistress?"

"Well, there might be some truth in it, though it's obvious that some demons aren't particularly intimidated."

"I noticed, Mistress."

But as Rei-sama pointed out, walking easily alongside them, with Noriko beginning to nod a bit at her side, there was at best an uneasy truce beween the Sorceresses' Guild of Heian Kyo and the Warrior Monks of Mount Hiei – come to that, there was at best an uneasy truce between the Warrior Monks and virtually everybody else. "Even if the current political climate were relatively untroubled – which it isn't – many sorceresses would pitch tents on a treacherous, boulder-strewn cliffside in a thundering typhoon sooner than ask those wretched monks for help. So I think Fujiwara-dono must have something else in mind."

Sachiko could only concede the truth of this. And indeed the winding route they followed up through the trees only took a very short while, well short of the half-hour or so that would likely have been needed to reach the nearest monastery, and Sachiko at least got the feeling that this part of the mountain was very, very seldom visited, by the monks or anyone else. It had a nervous feel to it, which was mysterious until you realized that a large part of the cause was the absence of night-birds or frogs raising their voices in song. Hunting was forbidden by Buddhist law in all parts of Mount Hiei, and the place had over time become a kind of peaceable kingdom, a place of harmony and gentleness – oh, apart from the animals' occasionally killing one another. And yet, this little piece of it was silent and empty.

The feeling one got was that this was a place for humans, as well as animals, to keep clear of.

Yumi seemed to agree. Her eyes were wide and dark in the occasional moonlight, and she clung to Sachiko's arm with unusual ferocity. Sachiko bore this with good grace, though it made it hard to climb, and wondered if her somewhat uncanny imouto felt what the animals felt...

In spite of this atmosphere, there was a house here. As the great shinden – and its smaller annex a bit further uphill, connected to the main part by a covered walkway – became visible around a great boulder, the general gasping and astonished sighs of the sorceresses all around them showed that this felt as wrong to everyone else as it did to Sachiko.

The house was lit up, well enough to be seen, but not glaringly so. Tapers rather than oil lamps, as it seemed. And there were shapes and shadows moving dimly in the taper-light, between the shutter-planks, behind the paper doors.

Fujiwara-dono stopped, quite suddenly, just abreast of the boulder. She turned slowly, and waited for the whole column to finish shuffling to a halt.

"Tell the girls in back that if they can't hear me, they should come closer," she said in a somewhat subdued voice. "I don't want to talk any louder than this."

The message was passed back, and much of the fantail moved forward hurriedly. The thunder was sounding closer, and the trees were beginning to dance and whistle in anticipation of the celestial music.

"Can everyone hear me?"

General assent, expressed in nods.

"All right, then. The watchword for tonight is _mind your own beeswax._ I don't know if we're even going to get inside here, or be able to stay once we're in. The mistress of this house is of a changeable temperament. She may well turn us away."

The not-currently-very-cheerful trio of Momoko, Madoka, and Yuko, huddled together at Sachiko's right, seemed to feel that this would be all right with them. "Those shadows – eerie!" Madoka-chan whispered.

"Are they ghosts?" Momoko-chan whimpered, trying to hide under Madoka's arm.

"Keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking," Fujiwara-dono went on, "and we might just be in with a chance. But even if we do get in, and if she is in a sociable mood: _no personal questions._ She doesn't like them. And anyway, _you_ almost certainly wouldn't like the _answers_.

"Satou-san, with me. Mizuno-san, keep the rest no less than five paces away from us, and the house, for the moment."

And she turned again, and moved toward the light. Satou-san was with her in two bounds, and striding alongside.

Wanting to stay dry, but not liking the look of this at all, the column crept forward. They kept well clear of the porch, in case something came at them from under the house. Fujiwara-dono and Satou-san, however, clambered right up, and Fujiwara-dono said loudly, "Yamiko-san?"

There was a considerable wait. The shadows danced. Yumi seemed quite calm, now, and Sachiko looked at her curiously. Momoko-chan was trembling openly, however, despite her friends clinging to her and her mistress's hand on her shoulder. "There, there, Momoko-chan," Sachiko whispered to her. "Trust Fujiwara-dono, and all will come right." Sachiko, though not exactly afraid herself, found that she was feeling a bit jumpy. To be surrounded by dark, lifeless forest at the threshold of a house that teemed with unknown life, and to hear... what sounded like distant cries, inside the house, or like very faint singing... the singing of children – or of ghosts – or of the ghosts of children – was just a little –

The door flew open along its runners, causing upwards of a hundred little jumps and gasps. Fujiwara-dono had only just opened her mouth to hail again, but now closed it, and bowed.

There was a most unusual person in the doorway.

The figure was a woman. This much was clearer than it should have been, as her robes were not done up properly. She had been in a fight recently, as there were scratches and bruises on her bare right arm and shoulder, the scratches in three wideset rows, as might result from an attack by a large clawed animal with three toes to a paw. She was very tall, taller than Fujiwara-dono or Sei-san. Her hair was thick, and grew down her cheeks an unusual distance, so that she might almost be said to have sideburns. Her face, in spite of this uglifying detail, was comely, with wideset eyes and high-arching brows. She had a glazed clay bottle in her right hand, which dangled down at her side. The bottle spoke of osake – so did her general demeanor, come to think of it. She leaned against the doorjamb, and something about her lazy, indolent posture made one think of an animal, a very large, cunning, unpredictable beast, currently taking its ease, but apt to turn difficult in a moment.

There was a silence, as she took them in and they took her in. It was the silence of a lot of girls and young women who had never seen anything so extraordinary before, of a Fujiwara-dono and a Sei-san who were seeing someone who looked much worse than the last time they'd seen her, and of a reclusive person in her isolated home looking out at rather more people than she normally expected to turn up all at once.

At last, the strange woman spoke:

"Well-met by moonlight, proud Akiko-san."

"By lightning-flash it'll be, soon... Well-met, Yamiko-san. I beg your pardon for turning up unannounced like this."

"You, or Sei-san, turning up unannounced, is nothing but pleasure. This unlikely gaggle of unseasoned femininity behind you is... well, not _dis_pleasure, that's hardly fair to them, we've not even been..." She paused, and in pausing, seemed to lose interest in completing the sentence – not that she'd sounded much interested in starting it in the first place. She raised the bottle to her lips. She drank deep. She let her arm fall back to her side. She scanned the many faces before her, as if puzzled to find them still there.

The sound of rain beginning to pelt the upper leaves and branches high above began to filter down through the trees. There were some whining noises among the party, which were rapidly hushed.

"Yamiko-san," Fujiwara-dono said, "I hardly like to rush you. This is your house. But I was wondering if you could put us up for the night?"

Yamiko-san continued to slouch in the doorway, a snake basking in the moonlight. She seemed to the last degree lazy, mocking, supercilious. Her manner seemed almost calculated to offend. Then the moon was at last obscured by clouds for good and all, and they could only see her outline in the taper-light coming through the doorway. Thunder rumbled.

The majority of the party were positive she was going to refuse them lodging until she said, "Why not?" and turned, and walked inside, calling over her shoulder, "Don't stand on ceremony..."

The column straggled inside, unevenly, some reluctant, some overeager. There was some tripping over the porch steps, as the first drops were hitting the forest floor, and no one wanted to be the only one to get a wetted robe.

The front room of the shinden was quite large, broad and high, with a sturdy-looking ladder going up into a half-attic, and great shadows in which roof beams were dimly visible. A door to their left went out to an unkempt garden, in which the fountain seemed to have run dry and the pond was an algae-infested mess; next to this, through a large hole, one could make out broken ceramic suggesting a water harp, now gone silent, and the bamboo water-catcher had been smashed and lay in several pieces on the stones.

The double mystery of the moving shadows and the soft, childlike cries was solved almost immediately: there were cats everywhere, on the floor, on the very sparse furniture, on the beams and in the half-attic. Everywhere you looked, you seemed to see more, constantly shifting position, so that you were never sure whether you'd looked at the same cat once, or twice, or thrice, so that counting them was like trying to count the stars. When the cats weren't grooming themselves or one another, or sleeping, or eating from one of the many mismatched food bowls strewn here and there in all parts of the floor, they were always watching Yamiko-san. But they were keeping away from her physically, as if afraid of her, so that if you didn't want to risk treading on a tail, the best place to be was within a few paces of her.

She seemed at something of a loss, suddenly, now that all these strange faces were crowding into her hall. In the improved light, they saw that she was pale – a ghastly pallor, rather than a fashionable one done with makeup – and her eyes were bloodshot. She shut the garden door, turning away as she did so to make a better job of fastening her robe – when she turned back it was still sloppy, but at least her bosom was fully covered. She said, without looking at Fujiwara-dono, "Akiko-san, my house is shamed. I am not in good supply –"

"I pray you won't think of it, Yamiko-san." Fujiwara-dono sounded concerned; she reached a hand toward Yamiko-sama's arm, but withdrew it quickly. "We have shelter from the rain, and that is enough. We can eat our trail rations –"

"Say, at the very least, I can get you all some sake, eh?" Yamiko-sama smiled, a sudden jolly smile, and clambered with alarming, almost insectile rapidity up the ladder, into the roof. She came back a moment later, with a large cask under her arm. She showed a startling strength and agility, for the cask must have been heavy, but she carried it easily, and easily negotiated the ladder one-handed. Sachiko had seen sailors move like that, on the docks, and at sea.

"Anyone for a drink?"

There was an awful lot of silence.

"Oh, come now. Are you _all_ abstaining?" Yamiko-sama looked around, perhaps a little desperately. _Don't make me drink alone,_ her eyes seemed to plead with them.

"I'll drink with you, Yamiko-san," Satou-san said. Shimako-chan, at her side, raised a hand and smiled a small smile.

Yamiko-sama actually flushed a little with relief. "I had a feeling _you_ wouldn't let me down, Sei-san... Anyone else who wants some, come on up and feel free. There's plenty! and for Heaven's sake, sit down – wherever you can find – there are cushions, here and there…"

With much stiffness, people began to sit, wherever they could find a bit of floor that seemed trustworthy enough. There was no conversation. Sachiko, for one, was ready to know this unusual person better, but it was difficult to overcome the atmosphere. Even the cheerful trio were very quiet in Yamiko-sama's presence, though they seemed to be getting some of their bounce back, now that they were indoors and sitting down. Madoka-chan started to say something about the cats, too loudly, then seemed to realize she was talking too loudly, and shut up. Then Yuko-chan started to say something, but was speaking too softly to be heard, and then lost confidence and resorted to silence. The three had a tendency to stay together anyway, but here they were positively clinging to one another, and sitting almost in one another's laps. A lot of the sorores and famulae were like that, quiet and sitting as close to their mistresses as they were allowed, but it was especially noticeable in these three.

Yamiko-sama was serving out sake, now. She lingered with the three as she filled their cups. "What are three lively young society ladies such as yourselves doing this far out in the woods, hm?" she asked them gently.

Momoko-chan murmured something, but didn't finish. Madoka-chan was the only one who actually looked at Yamiko-sama; the other two kept their eyes on the floor.

"Do you like cats?" Yamiko-sama asked them.

This produced a little more society-lady liveliness. Yuko-chan said she loved them passionately, and sounded as if she meant it. Madoka-chan didn't say anything, but nodded emphatically. Momoko-chan, her voice quivering, said that she liked cats, but she didn't know any that liked her.

"Oh? Why, how sad."

This gentle, thoughtful, wondering tone was another new mood in Yamiko-sama, Sachiko thought. They were piling up. And Yamiko-sama continued to examine Momoko-chan quizzically, leaning her head to one side, and then the other. Momoko-chan blushed and looked down. Madoka-chan and Yuko-chan clung to her somewhat more fiercely, as if afraid that Yamiko-sama would grab her and make off with her into the rafters.

Yamiko-sama did reach a hand up toward the rafters, but only made a rumbling noise in her throat, and then didn't move. A few moments passed, in which she seemed to be having a staring contest with something in the dimness above.

Then a cat came down, falling with startling suddenness, and Yamiko-sama caught it in both arms, with a most graceful and willowy arm motion cushioning the trusting cat's fall. It made Sachiko sigh, the beauty of it. She heard a gasp at her left: Ayanokouji-kun.

Yamiko-sama set the landed cat gently on the floorboards, in front of Momoko-chan. "This is Mizuki," she said.

Mizuki made small-eyes at her mistress, purring, and then began to clean one paw, apparently unconcerned about all the total strangers staring at her. She was a strong-looking, well-fed, handsome creature with glossy black fur.

Momoko-chan held out a hand to Mizuki, uncertainly.

Mizuki finished the paw, said "meer-wow?" to no one in particular, and sort of flowed into Momoko-chan's lap, stretching and undulating her body beautifully as she went.

Yuko-chan and Madoka-chan began to coo and croon to Mizuki, and tickled her ears. Momoko-chan was silent, stroking her back and flanks and head, an amazed look in her eyes. Mizuki craned her neck up to nuzzle Momoko-chan's cheek with her nose.

This produced sighing and pleased murmurs from all quarters, and a chuckle from Yamiko-sama. "I thought she'd take to you, sweetheart. You seemed like her kind of person."

The atmosphere eased considerably after this. People began to talk to one another. Ayanokouji-kun, unbidden, filled another large bottle from the cask and began helping Yamiko-sama serve the drinks.

* * *

Yamiko-sama had started a second cask heating when some few said they might like their sake hot. And when she saw the sorceresses taking out their cold little meals of salted fish and dried greens, she burst out suddenly, "Wait – only a little!" – and in a few minutes a pot of rice was boiling away nicely in her kitchen, through a little door in the back of the enormous front room. She had gone from shamefaced, looking-at-the-floor apologies for her poor hospitality to leaping about, the jolly hostess, so completely that it was difficult to recognize the lazy, unconcerned drunk of their first sight in either of the two later incarnations.

"She's dangerous, isn't she, Sei?" Youko asked her friend, when they'd got their rice and a few pickled plums to go with their fish, and found a place to sit together that was a discreet distance from anyone else. They spoke in low voices.

"To her enemies, yes," Sei said. She was unusually serious. "I've only seen her a few times; Fujiwara-dono knows her better. Has she never mentioned Yamiko-san to you?"

Youko shook her head.

"Well, I'm not just the person to tell you best, perhaps… She lives under a curse of some kind, does our Child of Darkness, and she does not age or die – I'm not sure how old she is, but I believe she and Fujiwara-dono have known one another since Fujiwara-dono's girlhood, which was quite some time back, and Yamiko-san was fully grown _then_. But it's one of those questions you don't ask. Like to that, I've never known how old Fujiwara-dono is, and I've no intention of asking."

"Me neither."

"Wise as well as lovely!... No, Yamiko-san is dangerous, but she's a lonely person, with few friends, and Fujiwara-dono may be her most important friend." She cast her eyes to the floor by the garden door, where Yamiko-san sat with Fujiwara-dono, pouring them little cups of sake and the two of them tossing them back together. "She's not going to make any sort of attack on anyone in the Sorceresses' Guild, I don't believe. Though she might be a bit unpredictable at the moment."

"Why so?"

Here, Sei looked right into Youko's eyes and lowered her voice even more. "She has lost Ren-san."

"Who is Ren-san?"

"I was never sure. She was a woman in her fifties when I knew her before. She seemed shy of most everyone except Yamiko-san, I don't know why. I thought her mysterious, because she lived in this house, with this extraordinary creature, and Fujiwara-dono told me that she had done so for nearly forty years. But there was nothing mysterious about her person, not like Yamiko-san. She was a woman, wise and kindhearted, and she was a good hostess... and she and Yamiko-san..."

"Yes?"

"Well, they loved one another very dear, I believe. Goodness knows what she's going to do, now. Ren-san helped her bear her burdens. And how many other people will be willing to live in this house, with such a person, alone?"

"Sei, you're leaving something out. Just where _is_ this Ren-san?"

"Ah, my clever one, that's just what I'd give worlds to know. I'm sure Fujiwara-dono would too. If Ren-san is dead, why hasn't Yamiko-san said? and if she's just up and gone, then why? I was going to ask her about it, but Fujiwara-dono forbade me... What could make her leave after forty years under this roof, a place she seemed so happy?" Sei shook her head. "I don't like it, Youko. I don't like Ren-san vanishing this way. And I don't like the thought of Yamiko-san having to be alone. She's no weakling, Yamiko-san, but she…"

"She's the sort of person who shouldn't be alone."

"Well, who likes to be alone? But in Yamiko-san's case, well… she might be more dangerous, if she has to be alone."

* * *

"Would anyone like – music?"

Yamiko-sama appeared to be quite drunk by this time, on companionship as well as sake. The storm outside was in full thunder now, and the occasional flash filled the room through the paper walls, followed by a crash to shake the floors, and the constant thrumming of the droplets on the roof provided a continuo. Everyone talked the louder, as if to defy all the noise from outside. Many of the sorceresses had let go somewhat. Some had tried osake for their first time tonight, and for them a little went a long way. There was an atmosphere of euphoria.

Yumi had had three small cups of osake herself. She couldn't remember whether it was her first time or not. She felt a bit dizzy, but certainly not unwell. She was in a glad state, and loved everything around her – the room, the people, the light, the noise from outside. Now she was ready to love music as well.

The more sober among them were quietly skeptical at Yamiko-sama's question; they didn't think her likely to be a skilled musician – there was a rough, uncultured edge to her – and drunk as she was at the moment, any sudden musical urges on her part promised horror. But the naysayers were outnumbered by the euphorists, and Fujiwara-dono and Satou-sama and Mizuno-sama seemed all for encouraging Yamiko-sama to enjoy herself in whatever way was appealing to her. The overwhelming response was, "Yes, let there be music!"

Yamiko-sama disappeared back up into the half-attic, and reappeared over the lip of it to hand down to Satou-sama a koto, a drum, and a flute. "I've got the drum," Satou-sama said.

"I know you have," Yamiko-sama said happily.

The sorceress who had got her arm twisted by Satou-sama back on the steps – Ayanokouji-kun, Sachiko-sama had called her – took the flute from Satou-sama, and blew a trill. "Good tone," she said, in a pleased way, swaying a bit.

"Best sit," Satou-sama advised her, grinning and steadying her by one arm.

Yamiko-sama came down from the half-attic in a fluid leap, startling sorceresses and cats alike. Then the three musicians sat in a vague semicircle by the garden door.

Yamiko-sama deftly struck the open strings of the koto. She had it tuned strangely: the top strings were a step or two lower than normal so that they rumbled like bears, and the bottom two strings were tuned close together so that they cawed like birds, and a full two reaches above the top strings.

Some of the sorceresses grimaced at one another. It was an _uncouth_ sound.

But Satou-san set up a driving rhythm, and Yamiko-sama began a thrumming, growling, prowling progression, now two strings at once, now four, now seven, now all. Kikuyo-san leapt in with the flute, a high trill.

Yamiko-sama began to sing:

This branch is deep in cloud.  
I go to crouch in darkness;  
'Wait the sweet-voiced bird.  
His song stops in my teeth for good.  
Hi, the cat, the cat, the cat!

A dissonant howl from Kikuyo-san's flute, a joyful howl from Yamiko-sama's glad mouth. A triumphant flourish from the drum, without breaking the rhythm.

The many cats seemed to know the song was about them. They had become more active, and the rumble of their many purrings made a gentle drone to underlie the music. Some simply sat, or lay; some frisked about one another; some slunk along low to the floor, or the ceiling-beams, stalking unseen prey, eyes closed in feline rapture. And some leapt at one another playfully and wrestled, rolling across the floor.

Yumi heard Momoko-chan and her mistress chattering behind her: "Ayanokouji-kun is such a skilled player, isn't she, Mistress?" "Yes, but I've never heard her play like _this_ before! Like the cry of a hawk, or an owl." She was fitting her playing to the wild koto-and-drum under her, Yumi thought, so that she went from low to high and back to low without warning, played loudly, so that her squeals had a tendency to turn to squeaks – but then would come a more orderly passage, and the true virtuosity of her breath and fingers was made plain.

Yamiko-sama howled again, starting low and moving high, and began another verse:

My home between two rocks  
Is ordered to my liking.  
Hi, the cat, the cat!  
I cook and clean for one,  
And do the mousing on my own.  
Hi, the cat, the cat, the cat!

The song ended in a vibrant mess of thumping drum and koto and flute notes tangling insistently together. There was uproarious, semi-drunken applause. The musicians looked at one another delightedly, and before the applause had even properly faded, they had started something else.

* * *

Yumi found herself experiencing a new sensation, or at least one she couldn't remember having encountered before: she was by herself – in a throng of people with no Sachiko-sama beside her – and yet she was happy, and comfortable. She was just quietly enjoying herself, and she felt no strong uneasiness that she didn't belong here and had no right to be enjoying herself, which would likely have been the case a few days earlier. She could see Sachiko-sama across the room, sitting by Fujiwara-dono, the two of them apparently conversing in low tones. Sachiko-sama was holding a cup of sake, but Yumi had only seen her sip from it once. She caught Yumi looking at her, smiled, nodded very carefully, and went back to her conversation.

Yumi knew that the nod meant that Sachiko-sama would come back to her in a few minutes, but couldn't have said how she knew.

Yamiko-sama and Satou-sama seemed very well together. Yumi heard some of their conversation as she passed on the way to get more osake: Satou-sama was saying, "It was a huge, ugly brute, like a giant chicken with a human head that had taken up wrestling and being cruel to children."

"And you jumped on its head?"

"With the help of some ravens, I did. Youko happened to witness the event, and was helpless with admiration at my panache and resourcefulness!"

"Not the first words I'd choose to describe the sensation," Mizuno-sama put in, "but I suppose they'll do." She'd had a bit of osake herself, and was more relaxed than Yumi had ever seen her. She was leaning one arm on Satou-sama's shoulder.

Yumi found that the cask was empty. Hm. She'd particularly wanted another little cup...

"Demons are troublesome," Yamiko-sama opined. She was seated leaning against the ladder, in something like the indolent pose they'd first seen her, except with a much greater aura of friendliness and pleasure in her company. Ayanokouji-san had fallen asleep with her head in Yamiko-sama's lap, and she paused every now and then to stroke the sleeping sorceress's hair. Come to that, a number of people seemed to have hit their bedtimes; Eriko-sama, seated with the others, held her tousle-haired, difficult imouto in her lap, and Mizuno-sama's imouto with the strange, twirling curls in her hair was snuggled against her mistress's back. "Especially the ones that have their _own_ panache," Yamiko-sama was saying. "If it's the usual murder-by-numbers sort, then their actions are more predictable; they can be downright lumpish. But it sounds as if you got a high chancellor, or at least an intelligencer."

"_Not_ the worst sort," Fujiwara-dono mused.

"Eh?"

Youko clarified, straightening up and turning to face Yamiko-sama politely. "Once its plan had failed, it was done. It had no fallback or emergency plan, in case of failure. It just wanted to kill anybody or everybody; it seemed even to have lost the power of speech. Then Sachiko and Yumi were able to deal with it."

"More the intelligencer sort, then," Yamiko-sama suggested. "A journeyman demon."

Yamiko-sama was preoccupied. Yumi didn't want to interrupt. She decided to just go to the kitchen herself. She picked her way among the seated, or supine, sorceresses.

In the kitchen she found a bit of a mess – opened cabinets and overturned containers – Yamiko-sama hadn't been keeping house well, it seemed – and a girl in the middle of the mess, tending to a heating cask of osake. So Yumi had been beaten to it. But maybe she could help.

"Wasn't the music wonderful?" she asked the girl.

The girl seemed not to realize that she was being spoken to, at first. Yumi had to repeat herself. When the girl finally looked at Yumi, she proved to be a girl she'd had a nice conversation with yesterday, at Prince Suguru's pavilion. Sadako? Yes. Sadako-san had a nice face, but she kept hiding it, turning it away. There was a scar on one cheek, quite faint; Yumi hadn't even noticed it at first, in yesterday's daylight. Her expression was set, harsh. "It's all right, I suppose, for people who like music."

"I don't know very much about music," Yumi allowed.

"I know more than I want to," said Sadako-san, "and I'm not really in the mood for conversation. This is, to be explicit, the worst day of my whole life. Do you think that you, and everybody else, could leave me alone as much as possible? I'll get you all more wine, as my Mistress commanded, and then you can all swill yourselves into insensibility if you like."

Yumi was taken aback, but it would be going too far to say that she was hurt. She had tramped around the country in all weathers, and people had denied her conversation before; they had also denied her simple company, and food, and a place by the fire, and a bit of roof to her head, which was much worse. Rejection was too familiar a sensation to be really painful, only surprising because she had spent the last few days among people who gave to her freely, with both hands. _Oh yes,_ she thought, _there is this feeling too. I had almost forgotten._

"As you wish," she said. "But it has been a glorious, beautiful day, and it has been a magical evening, if also a bit dark and scary, and I wonder what could have happened to you today to make it the worst one you have ever had? I have had a few bad days," Yumi understated, "and none of them was like this one. Not a bit. Oh, apart from all the walking."

"You're not leaving me alone yet," Sadako-san said glumly, looking broodingly at the cask.

"I thought I'd give you a chance to change your mind," Yumi said.

"Why?"

"Because I know what it is to be left alone. Completely alone."

"Do you."

"Yes. It isn't much fun. My life only began to improve recently, when there was suddenly someone beside me, asking me questions."

That made Sadako-san look up, straight at Yumi. Then she looked down, apparently at Yumi's hands. "You killed a demon last night, Yumi-san. Or so I heard."

"Sachiko-sama killed it."

"I heard you both killed it."

"I helped her. Maybe I helped her."

Sadako-san kept looking at Yumi's hands. Then she looked her in the eye again. "Sachiko-sama seems to like you."

Now Yumi blushed and looked away. "Sachiko-sama is... a very wonderful person. I really don't deserve –"

"I hate you."

Yumi stared at Sadako-san.

Sadako-san dropped her eyes first and looked back at the cask. "No, I don't. I'm sorry I said that."

"Why did you say it?"

Sadako-san shrugged her shoulders.

"Please tell me. If I did something to make you hate me, I want to undo it."

"Your mistress loves you."

"Yes... I suppose..."

"Well, mine doesn't love me."

Yumi couldn't think of a thing to say, for a moment.

* * *

"What's wrong, Fujiwara-dono?" Youko was beginning to be worried by the look on Fujiwara-dono's face. She wished she hadn't had any drink.

"Probably nothing, Mizuno-san. Don't be too upset. But it might be as well to be careful. Yamiko-san is a good friend of mine. But her behavior is so unusual, this evening. And I have to say that the absence of Ren-san gives me some concern."

"Are we in danger here?"

"I think to call it 'danger' would be to overstate it. Oh, most certainly. Tell me, Mizuno-san, what do you think of Yamiko-san?"

"Strange... but I like her…" Youko looked across the room at Yamiko-sama, found that local space seemed to shape itself around her, and the weak taper-light they were all sitting in seemed brighter than it should, and more colorful. She still sat against the ladder where she'd been. Minamoto Bunko-san, Ayanokouji-kun's mistress, was trying to wake her long enough to get her out of Yamiko-sama's lap and into her bedroll. Yamiko-sama had been careful not to wake Ayanokouji-kun, but had not interfered with Minamoto-san's efforts; only gracing her with the occasional over-friendly, drunken smile. With a little help from a grinning Sei, Minamoto-san finally got her sleepily annoyed imouto up and headed for bed.

Youko had trailed off, and Fujiwara-dono was looking at her expectantly. "Sorry, Fujiwara-dono. I like her. She's an excellent hostess, and Sei obviously thinks very highly of her…"

"Sei certainly does," Sei said, arriving. "What's up?"

"Hard to say whether anything really is. I know, and now you know, of Yamiko-san's personal peculiarities, but there's still something none of us has done before, me included, and that's spend a night in her house. And there's too much we don't know about the situation. Watchfulness is important… Anyway, practical consideration, there isn't room here, for everybody," Fujiwara-dono said. "Some of us – about twenty I think – will go up to the annex. I'll be with that party. Satou-san and Mizuno-san, you will stay here with the rest of them."

"Shall we two sleep in watches?"

"I really don't think it's necessary... and anyway, Yamiko-san might be offended if you did that. But, well, try to sleep light, hm?"

Satou-san and Mizuno-san looked at one another. "We'll do our best, Fujiwara-dono."

* * *

Sachiko was unpacking her bedroll. This was a sort of large, straw-padded cloak with no sleeves.

"Are you going to sleep in that, Mistress?" Yumi asked her. She was kneeling next to Sachiko.

"We both are, Yumi."

"Oh. Um. Is there room?"

"I believe so. If we're friendly. We're friendly, aren't we, Yumi?" Sachiko smiled.

Yumi blushed.

Sachiko was surprised by how much she was looking forward to this. Before, she had used to wonder how her friends at the Mountain Lily Inn – Rei-san and Yoshino-san, Sei-san and whoever-it-currently-was – slept tangled up with someone else in their arms. She'd always been quite sure she'd feel stifled, claustrophobic, irritable at having to be that close to someone all the time. But over the last few days, sleeping with Yumi in her arms had come to seem completely natural to her, to such an extent that more than once, while Yumi had been missing yesterday, she had wondered how in the world she was going to get any sleep without her. And in the event, having carried Yumi upstairs, weary to the the bone, she had lain next to her, pulled her into her arms, and gone to sleep right away, like falling into a deep lake. Now they were going to sleep together in the bedroll, in a dark house on a mountain, with a rainstorm still going on outside. There was a romance to it that appealed to Sachiko.

All around them, everybody was settling down for the night. There were one or two arguments about someone taking up too much room, hushed by Youko-sama, who was at one end of the room with Touko-chan, while Sei-san took the other end with Shimako-san. Yamiko-sama was going to sleep in the attic – she had assured them that she slept up there all the time – but at the moment she was assuring Momoko-chan that of course, she could sleep with Mizuki in her bedroll, if Mizuki wanted to. Mizuki seemed to be offering Momoko-chan no argument on the point.

Now the tapers were being blown out, so that the only light would be the occasional lightning-flash. Sachiko told Yumi to get into the bedroll first. "That way I can seal it behind me."

Yumi got in. She said, wonderingly, "I've never slept on anything so soft, Mistress. Not even your pallet back at the inn. And it's so warm..."

Warmer still when Sachiko had finished doing up the cloak, and turned to put her arms around Yumi. Yumi turned and snuggled in right away, and put her own arms around Sachiko – a thing she had done only once before, when she was frightened by the man at the temple baths. She pressed her face against Sachiko's shoulder.

Sachiko drew a quick breath at this. She squeezed Yumi gently, and began to run her fingers through Yumi's hair. She felt Yumi sigh on her neck.

"Good night, all," said Yamiko-sama's voice from above, in the darkness. "It was good to have someone to talk to, and drink with, and sing with... I've been doing without, lately. I don't recommend it. Sleep... sleep, and dream of mist in the valleys and cloud on the mountaintops... From the depths to the heights, passing in and then out of light, and knowledge... nothing but mist, all the way up and all the way down..." The voice trailed away. There was a little nervous giggling, but mostly silence.

"Is something wrong?" Sachiko whispered in Yumi's ear. "Not that it's wrong to..." She trailed off and put a hand to Yumi's face, gently tilting it up so she could look her in the eye. "Oh, not wrong at all. You just –"

"I know." Yumi put a hand to Sachiko's face, finding it with seeming ease despite the darkness. A flash of lightning illuminated them briefly a moment later. Sachiko was sure Yumi had caught her in that light looking less guarded than she ever had, that Yumi could see the girl, the child deep inside, hidden under the layers. "It's only... well, I was talking to Sadako-san earlier. She just became Hikaru-sama's famula. And she's hurt and sad because of it. I think she was hoping for a mistress she could feel close to, and Hikaru-sama..."

"What does Hikaru-san do?" Sachiko said. She was suddenly very alert. She had often wondered what sort of mistress Hikaru-san would make, when she got around to it.

"Oh, she's not deliberately unkind, Mistress. She just doesn't include Sadako-san in anything. A few of the girls just got taken on as famulae or sorores today, and their mistresses have been talking to them, teaching them things. Hikaru-sama has mostly ignored Sadako-san. So she's unhappy."

"Hmmm." There seemed suddenly to be a distance between them. Sachiko considered Yumi's words carefully, and whispered back, "I believe that it sometimes takes time for a mistress and a soror to get used to one another. I shouldn't like to judge Hikaru-san and find her wanting on the basis of her first day as a mistress. I don't think I was the perfect mistress myself at first, was I? And am I now? Is there something you want me to do about this, Yumi? Because I don't know if –"

Yumi burrowed in again, squeezing tightly. "No, Mistress. I was just glad I have a mistress I can be like this with. That's all."

"Oh." Sachiko was startled. And relieved, she had to admit. "Oh. I see." She felt very warm. The slight distance there'd been a moment ago was gone. She stroked Yumi's hair a little more. "I'm glad too, little fox."

And earthly paradise moved slowly but surely into sleep.

* * *

Yumi was awakened by light.

At first she thought it was the sun of the new day, but on further sleepy examination the light filling the strange room was too eldritch to be sunlight. It was cool and soft like moonlight, but unnaturally bright. Sachiko-sama's face, wonderfully close to Yumi's, was etched in harsh shadows by the light.

Something was wrong.

Sachiko-sama's face was very close. Their noses were almost touching. But she was still asleep.

"Mistress?" Yumi shook Sachiko-sama. Harder. "Mistress!"

Sachiko-sama did not stir.

Yumi already knew Sachiko-sama was a heavy sleeper, but… she had a terrible moment there, looking at her mistress's face, one she would remember as long as she lived, and she feared the ultimate disaster – but it was quickly dissipated: Sachiko-sama's face was warm to Yumi's trembling touch, her breast moved under Yumi's hand, and Yumi could feel breath on her lips, very gentle, when she held her face close. Sachiko-sama was definitely alive. She just wasn't waking up.

Yumi looked around and felt as if her blood had crystallized: Yamiko-sama was standing there, in the middle of the room with sleeping sorceresses around her feet, and looking directly into Yumi's eyes. Yumi squealed, a squeal she swallowed even as she made it, because she suddenly feared that too loud a noise might be her death.

Yumi held still. She wasn't trapped exactly, but the bedroll's doings were on Sachiko-sama's side, and wriggling out would be time-consuming, and Yamiko-sama, as Yumi had seen, was quick and nimble as anything. If Yamiko-sama meant her harm, Yumi was done for anyway, but Yumi held still, kept both arms curled at her side, ready to lash out, and waited...

...and gradually, it became clear that Yamiko-sama wasn't really looking at Yumi. Yumi happened to be lying in the direction Yamiko-sama's face was pointed, and that was all. Yamiko-sama's face was empty, and her eyes expressionless and unmoving. Yumi felt sure that her own face had changed a lot after her initial squeal of surprise: shock/horror, lip-biting tension, set determination, impatience – the excessive mobility of her face had been remarked upon – and Yamiko-sama had reacted to none of it. Hadn't seemed _aware_ of any of it, even the sound of the squeal.

_There's no one in there,_ Yumi thought. _But where is Yamiko-sama, then?_

Then, Yamiko-sama moved toward the garden door. She didn't look down, but her feet stepped around the sleeping sorceresses with eerie deftness, Yumi and Sachiko-sama last of all.

She slid open the garden door, and there was the moon, between two trees. It was full, and it was about twice as large as Yumi had ever seen it, as if it had moved closer when no one was looking.

The garden door slid shut behind Yamiko-sama.

The cats were going mad. They were leaping about, mewing excitedly, even growling.

Yamiko-sama's shadow, tall and dark against the paper door, swelled a-sudden, then dropped to the ground, on all fours. It was at least twice as large as it had been, but it was no longer the shadow of a woman. The moonlight moved, and the shadow stretched.

And the forms of the cats milling about on the floor, on the rafters, and crouched over the sleepers were also larger now. And their voices deepened a little, from the chirping of cats to the hisses and howls of women, all dancing and slinking about, tails and ears twitching, and all hissing over and over, "Mistress, Mistress, Mistress..."


	12. Dreams

So. Seven months. Better than eleven months, I suppose, but still not very good. Have to try to tighten up the gaps more.

Open letter to ffnet (which of course they won't read because who has time to _read_, such busy people?): I give up. You're like an autistic-savant infant with a slide-rule. I assume there is a good reason why some symbols just can't be allowed in stories, and I've obviously never tried to administer a site like this and have no clue about all the problems you face. I suppose the horizontal rule is good enough to use, to put a gap between scenes, but it is this HUGE CLUNKING THING. I like a little asterisk, myself. Old scene ends. Enter. Asterisk. Enter again. New scene. Simple, understated, no muss, no fuss. Patrick O'Brian used those. Other writers have used them, or simple doublespaces, which you also won't allow. I guess they were all retarded, or just have no idea about all the problems you face. Anyway: I give up, and I'm now going to go back through everything I've posted so far, and insert the huge clunking horizontal rules in the appropriate places to try to restore some vestige of sense to the story. Thank you, and good night.

Also: hyphens and long dashes are now the same thing. If you see a hyphen, it's a hyphen. If you see a hyphen where a long dash would make more sense, pretend it's a long dash. Thank you for entering my fantasy world. (I _have _found a page with lots of helpful-looking advice about formatting, but it looks to be about as long as one of my chapters, and it's going to take me a while to absorb it all.)

To my readers: I really am sorry about the wait, and I will try to cut down on the wait for the next one.

Glossary: I don't think there's really anything here that warrants it. If I run across anything later, I'll amend that.

Oops! Last note, my lovelies: this is the first half of chapter nine. The second half will be posted probably later today, as soon as I've done giving it the final brushup and inserting the huge clunking horizontal rules in it.

Now, read on...

* * *

IX. Dreams...

_"'Yes... life's like that,' says the moon, picking its teeth with a twig_." _– Meatball Fulton_

The moonlight moved again. For a moment it made a circle right in the middle of the garden door, to Yumi's sight, and there was the twisted silhouette of a great leaping beast at its center. Then the beast was gone, and the moon was moving away. Yumi couldn't tell which direction it was going, and there was too much danger right where she was. _I have to move!_ she thought. She wriggled. The doings of the bedroll were on the other side of it, and she couldn't reach around or through Sachiko-sama to get at them. So she wriggled, for her life.

The moonlight wasn't as strong as it had been, but it was still somewhat stronger than the taper-light they'd all been drinking by not long ago, and the moving shadows in the room, not cats and not women, neither yet somehow both, were beginning to unpuzzle themselves in front of Yumi's eyes. Some of them were befurred over their whole bodies, some over only parts, and others had it only on their tails and their pointed, high-set ears. They seemed newly-awakened, and they were noticing, with consternation, the many sleepers on the floor. The current position of the traveling moon threw the shadows of the shutter-slats and the garden door everywhere, but Yumi and Sachiko-sama were right in the brightest part of the room, and it was only time till Yumi was noticed – _Now or never –_

The precious narrow gap of Yumi's egress was around her thighs just now. Her feet couldn't remember the earth unless they were in direct contact with it. The only "elements" within reach were straw bedroll and floorboard, and she doubted her servant could be successfully called forth from either.

And now a hiss was approaching. Yumi saw one of the cat/woman shapes approaching her from the shadow of the wall between the garden door and the shutters, at first only a shadow with glowing eyes, crouching low, almost on its hands and knees, but then the shadow passed into a beam of shifting moonlight and Yumi could make out her long legs covered with brown-and-orange-and-black fur, and a like patch between her breasts and tufting her forearms. She wore a leather jerkin and a headband to keep her tangled hair out of her eyes, which burned stolen moonlight yellow into Yumi's heart.

Yumi's mind went out like a taper in the wind. Terror made her body rigid.

Then another light burned fiercely inside her – she mustn't give up, everyone was depending on her –

"_Hisssss!_" Yumi hissed at the cat-woman, thrusting her hands in front of her like claws.

The cat-woman's ears went flat back onto her head and she leapt back a few paces. Her glowing eyes were wide with carnivorous alarm.

With a desperate jerk Yumi got her legs free of the bedroll at last. Her feet found floorboard, and –

The cat-woman pounced, but Yumi made a spring towards the only clear bit of floor she could see – several paces away, about halfway to the kitchen entrance at the back of the main room. Her sudden, rather clumsy arrival startled the hissing shapes in that part of the room, making them leap backwards and go into crouches, but Yumi had seen the other one's recovery time, and she knew that there was no way she was going to make it to the kitchen – the one place in sight that might provide sanctuary, however briefly – before they all fell on her at once. She had to find another way –

She went to the floor between two occupied bedrolls.

She sensed the weight and warmth of many cat-women converging on her; they would give her no more time than they could help. They were snickering. No doubt they thought she was mad, trying to hide from them in plain sight.

There were three ways out of her exposed burrow: up, or toward the garden, or toward the opposite wall. The cat-women would get her if she took any of them. Up was useless, unless there were also a down. Yumi looked to the one side – the sleepers' heads, the garden – and the other – the sleepers' feet, a blank wall. Hisses, soft feet nearing –

She crossed her eyes.

And the middle way opened before her, and she was on it like a startled rabbit fleeing down its burrow.

She heard the furious hisses and snarls of cat-women behind her, even a brief scuffle which sounded like someone had tripped someone else up by mistake. But she couldn't tell; where she was, the walls and the sleepers seemed to bulge outward, there was a red tinge to everything, and the cat-women were visible only as dancing wisps of fuzzy smoke.

The middle way wouldn't stay open for long – it was as dangerous in its way as the remembering-place, because while the remembering-place was always there in some sense, the middle way was temporary, and when it disappeared forever you went with it, if you were so improvident as to still be inside it – but the nice thing about it was that one _could_ choose where one came out of it, as long as it was a place one had seen before. Yumi's mind, which had come so close to freezing solid only moments ago, was burning with activity now, and she knew she had to make it up fast.

Any place she had seen, ever in her life. So she chose the inside of the kitchen, hoping there was something in there she could make use of. The kitchen had no door she could close, and it wouldn't take the cat-women, with their ears and noses, very long to figure out where she'd gone... The bulge of the walls of the front room twisted, and the kitchen walls formed around her, the stove, the mess, the cups and bowls soaking in a wooden tub glistening in the weird light from the little window. And a large cask of sake, unopened: the spare Yamiko-sama had brought down from the attic.

Yumi had no time. They would smell her out, if their noses were as catlike as their ears and tails. And as soon as she made a noise, they wouldn't have to smell her. She looked wildly about her, trying to think what might serve her, hearing the sound of the cat-women approaching the kitchen door, growling low –

* * *

Sachiko was reading. She was in her former chambers in her father's house, where she had not set foot since her fifteenth year, and yet she was the sorceress Ogasawara Sachiko, a three-year veteran of the Guild. It seemed completely natural that she should be here, on one level, but on another, she knew she was dreaming.

"Mistress?"

The garden door was standing open. She had looked up a while ago to see early spring, with ornamental trees new-budding. Now there was some subtle change in the light, and she looked up again and saw summer weather, and heard the song of the cicada.

_Was that Yumi's voice?_

She looked at the door to the outer chamber. It, too, was standing open, but there was no sign of Yumi. Except that her hand was on the doorjamb. Just her hand. Well. Sachiko would wait until the rest of her arrived.

_– dreaming –_

It was _vital_ that she reach some conclusion as to just what this book was saying. The author enjoyed hiding behind obscure, archaic dialect and figurative language. Sachiko was capable of deciphering such matter, but it made her impatient. _Abstruse recondite fiddlesticks..._ as near as she could tell, the author was saying that the hastily-approaching end of the world would only signal a new beginning, but the beginning of a transformed world of chaos and dark forces, of nightmares walking. This was clean contrary to Buddhist doctrine. But Buddhist doctrine, Sachiko had always thought, was not always wise, unlike the Buddha himself. She had heard things about other ways of believing, from Sei-san, and from other travelers, and it seemed a common theme, no matter where you went in the great world. _Someone very clever and compassionate and sympathetic comes up with a system of thought and action, and then the followers come along and say whatever pops into their heads... everyone, cut off a finger... everyone, swallow mercury... we must gather our shoes together into a bundle..._

"Sachiko-sama?"

Yumi's voice again. _I am so close, here,_ Sachiko thought. _If she could just let me be a little while longer –_

Sachiko heard the distant cry of a deer. She looked up, and there were autumn colors in her garden. She stared for a moment, and the colors were in the room with her, fading sunset light speckling the walls with leafy textures...

_Yumi?_

She looked at the doorway and Yumi was not there. Even her hand had gone. _The girl is too impatient,_ Sachiko thought. _She should have been able to tell I was busy..._ The trouble with this author was, he was too emotional and impulsive. Sometimes something he said seemed right to Sachiko, but then he'd explain his reasons for saying it, and his reasoning was terribly faulted, and often secondhand. He seemed ready to believe anything an elder told him, and from the sound of it he must have had the gamiest assortment of elders ever at the disposal of any writer...

The air was turning chill, and it occurred to Sachiko that winter was probably imminent. She rose, thinking to close the garden door, but there, where there had only been bare floorboard, there was suddenly a little old man, dressed in a monk's habit, and with a wicker helmet the wrong way on his head, so that half his face was hidden.

He was muttering to himself. He was blocking Sachiko's way to the garden door. She tried to step around him, but he shifted position to block her again. He wasn't even looking at her. She would have thought he was unaware of her if he had not moved so purposefully to block her. She caught a phrase of his muttering – "if those who are willfully blind will not be made to see then may darkness perpetual be visited upon them" – and she recognized it from what she'd just been reading.

_Is this the ghost of my author?_

She assumed a waiting posture. She didn't know what he could do or what he intended to do. The first snowflakes were beginning to whistle through the open door, and night was falling in earnest. Sachiko gritted her teeth and growled. The old man looked directly at her for the first time, and his one visible eye was black and empty. It occurred to Sachiko that he'd been distracting her, standing between her and Yumi all this time, he and his book. Was it lies, pernicious lies, or only ill-intentioned misdirection, mindless malignance? She didn't care. She stood ready to eradicate him the moment he showed any weakness...

* * *

Sei was having speech with the Dagda, the Red Man of All Knowledge. His many children were dancing and loving one another in the mud at their feet. "Do you not know what it means, the song of the Stone?" the Dagda was asking her. "And did you never think to tell your father what you heard when you set foot upon it?"

"Did you never think to curb yourself, in the matter of children?" Sei asked in turn. "There must be fifty of them, if not more. How do you feed them all?"

"My people ruled your country once." The Dagda seemed unwilling to discuss his progeny, despite the fact that two of them were performing a disreputable act on his left shoe. "We will never rule it again. It is for the sons of the Gael to rule now. But now, even they are being pushed aside, and the land will be ruled by people who don't care about it, but only want to squeeze it over their faces so that its wealth drips down their beards. Is it pleasing to you that it should be so?"

"You'll never get the stain out," Sei said, mourning the Dagda's left shoe.

"It's your country, daughter of Cormac."

"Not anymore." Sei looked up at him, with a serious look now. "Nihon isn't even my true country. My country is Dreams, and Waking, and the Lands Between." She pointed at him. "You took the land from the Firbolgs, and the Gaels took it from you. Now the Northmen are taking it from the Gaels. I think Nihon was taken from someone too, once. Most lands have been." He was looking at her with a lack of expression which she knew meant anger. She relaxed again, and smiled at him. "When I was younger, I had a druid rod I cherished much; I could turn pigs into men, and men into pigs, and back again, with one little tap. Lir son of Conor took it from me and used it to become the finest sheepherder in all Connacht. Was I livid! I guess that I was. I put a charm on his face, turned his nose upside down, so to this day he gets snot in his hair when he sneezes. But I never did get my rod back."

"The two things aren't the same," the Dagda said disconsolately.

"Nothing is ever the same as anything else," Sei said grandly. "But that won't stop them trying. You know, if you fashioned a snug little sheath of sheepskin, and wore it at happy times, it might abate the neverending flow of children. If you Tuatha de Danaan truly do not age or die, then your wife can go right on having children till the Crack of Doom, which will probably be the sound of a whole world of hungry children falling on you and breaking your bones."

"This shoe is ruined," the Dagda finally noticed, an eternal sadness in his eyes.

* * *

There was no sly interweaving of dream and waking; the Dagda and his children were gone, like a soap-bubble, exploded quite, and someone was shaking Sei. "Please, oh, _please_ wake up, Satou-samaaa!"

Sei opened her eyes, and found that it was Yumi's hand on her shoulder. "Why, good morning, sweet one. What a delight to wake up to you!" She reached up and ran her fingers through Yumi's sleep-tousled hair. Yumi clung to her arm desperately, which made Sei a bit more alert. "Can it really be morning already? Oh... the light's a bit queer, isn't it? –" Sei broke off. Crouched a little way behind Yumi was a hulking shape, about Yumi's height, but broader. It occurred to Sei that the shape was familiar, and then it occurred to her that the shape was _a_ familiar: the water-creature, Yumi's dear aqua-homunculus, back again. The strange light was refracting through it and casting shifting, eerie patterns over the walls, and over the sleepers covering the floor.

And there were a lot of other crouching shapes nearby, one or two among the sleepers, but most against the eastern wall, opposite the garden doors and the shutters, many of them flashing pointed teeth at the water creature and hissing. One seemed to have a difficulty: she was very wet. She did not like being very wet. Her body was mostly covered in fur, and the fur was quite soaked and dripping. She was trying to dry herself with her tongue, and a few of her companions were trying to help her, but they kept cringing and making faces at the taste.

Oh, and there was rather a strong smell of sake.

"I'm not still dreaming, am I?" Sei wondered, her sleepy smile frozen in place.

"I wish you were," Yumi answered fervently.

"What is your water-creature doing?"

"It's a sake-creature at the moment," Yumi said, "and what it's doing is watching over my Mistress."

Sei boggled at the dear girl. "You fashioned an elemental servant out of _sake_?"

"There wasn't enough water handy," Yumi said defensively, too fast, "and I might have done it with earth, but I didn't know if it was safe to go outside after – though it doesn't seem to be very safe _inside_ either – well, _I_ don't – I _couldn't_ –" She seemed on the verge of tears.

Sei sat up and put her arms around Yumi.

Yumi stiffened, then sagged. Her breath hitched a bit. Her fingers tangled in the folds of Sei's loose shirt, and clung.

"Calmly, calmly, my dear," Sei said soothingly, patting the girl's head, taking a more intense look around the room. The balance of power seemed stable for the moment. "Is everyone else still asleep?"

"Yumph," Yumi said, against Sei's shirt.

"Have you tried to wake any of them?"

"Mistress," Yumi said, lifting her face off Sei's chest a bit, but not letting go. "And Mizuno-sama, and Torii-sama, and Rei-sama, and Shimako-san."

"And then me?"

"I tried you first after Mistress," Yumi corrected. "This was my second time trying to wake you."

Sei gave the bowed head before her a very soft look, and ran her fingers through the fine brown hair again. "Sorry I gave you so much trouble, popkin. I can be hard to rouse when I've been at the sake." Sei was beginning to be seriously worried. "Do you think the others might be? –"

"I'm sure they're all alive, Satou-sama," Yumi said hastily. "They may be glamoured. I don't know why I wasn't affected. And I don't know why I was sure _you_ wouldn't be affected –"

"Tell me," Sei interrupted. "Everything. From the beginning."

Yumi did so.

* * *

Youko was annoyed. She was doing everything herself, as always. Well, she was just as well pleased with that, in a way, because at least she knew things would be done right. But she quickly chided herself for that thought. _I am not a Guild unto myself,_ she reminded herself, as she finished looking over the figures for the quarterly report. The Guild's finances were in a state. She could ask Suga-sama for advice, but Suga-sama hated to talk about money. It would be a short, unilluminating conversation. Suga-sama would offer her Oe Hikaru-san's services, to help fix any problems… and Oe-san would sit opposite Youko for as long as she liked, answering direct questions with superficially respectful insults, making every appearance of helpfulness without actually helping.

She could ask Fujiwara-dono, if Fujiwara-dono hadn't gone and got herself turned into stone.

There she stood, in the corner of Youko's office, near the sliding door to the Gaijin Garden. Fujiwara-dono had been weeping at the moment of transformation, and her mouth was open, almost in a scream. Youko had to remind herself, _That's Fujiwara-dono,_ because it didn't look like her.

Sometimes, in the dark of night, if Youko could bring herself to stand next to the statue in the moonlight from the open door, and not move or make a sound for some space of time, she could hear Fujiwara-dono speak. Only one word. The word might or might not seem to make any sense at all. One night it had been "dance". Another, "laurel". Both good words, and they might make sense, if they could only be put together with something – there had been a Guild dance only the other night, and certainly the laurel was flowering at this time of year. Another night, it had been "budgerigar" which, as far as Youko could tell, made no sense whatever, and was so out-of-place and preposterous as to cast grave doubt on any other words heard in the vicinity of the darknight statue.

And tonight, the lamplight was wavering in the drafty room, and the shadows were dancing on Fujiwara-dono's tragic basalt face so that Youko couldn't tell if the statue was really weeping, or screaming with laughter, and Youko had to wonder if keeping it company under such oppressive circumstances would be worth it.

_You left me your field to farm, and forgot to tell me where you keep your plow,_ she thought reproachfully at it.

She could ask Sachiko for help, but Sachiko had gone into the earth and had not come up again. She was looking for Yumi, of course. Youko felt fairly sure Sachiko would come back, but when she had found Yumi, and not before. Trust Yumi to get all vaporish at a time like this, and go running home to mother…

Every day, Youko looked at her Dragons and Oxen and Rats, at the morning assembly, and every day they looked more disillusioned. Go ahead and run things, everyone had seemed to say, and then refused to help her. But she could have borne it all, without complaining even to herself, if a certain someone had stood by her.

She stood, and walked to the garden doorway. The moon was full and huge. The night was marvelous and yellow. And there… yes, the small planet north of the moon, that was Sei. It was a planet, and yet Youko could clearly see Sei standing nonchalantly in the heavens there, arguing with the moon. They both loved a good argument.

The door behind her rattled open. "Awake, my lovely. I bring you fresh fruits, and the wine of springtime, and pillows for your aching footsies."

Youko turned. The well-loved face was grinning at her from the door.

"Sei?" she said, scarcely believing. She took a step forward –

There was no one there. The door wasn't even open.

She wearily stifled her misery and disappointment, as she was so used to doing, though this time it seemed almost unbearable. She was sure now of Fujiwara-dono's stone laughter. She felt an unusually violent urge to topple the stone sorceress, break her, but that would break the room, and the earth as well, and bring the moon down on her. She dismissed the urge. She must care for the statue, as for an aged parent. _I can bear only hearing one word from you a night if it's a helpful word,_ she thought, touching the statue's grey cheek. _If it's a word that tells me how to get Sei back, I'll keep you always with me, and polish you every day._ The stone laughter seemed gentler now, not so strident. The air had stilled, and the lamplight was steady.

But then, the shadows of trees outside were dancing, shifting over her hand on Fujiwara-dono's face, and now Fujiwara-dono looked as if someone were twisting a stone blade in her stone belly. Youko turned quickly, and stepped to the garden door again –

The lady moon had Sei by the throat, and together they were making a mess of the southern sky, planets and stars were knocked all awry, flat on their faces in the black, doing involuntary somersaults, or sitting up, rubbing their bruised pates and complaining. Youko could see the combatants swinging one another about, Sei pulling at the hands on her throat, kicking at the moon's ankles, and she saw their mouths moving, but she couldn't hear their words, and she didn't know what the fight was about.

Insult was added to injury now. Not only was Sei out of reach and yet visible, she was in trouble, and Youko could only watch. She clenched her fists involuntarily. Everything was piling up, minor indignities as well as major, and she felt ready to burst with rage. She looked around at the garden, glaring, looking for something to take her rage out on –

– and she found that the plum tree was about half again as tall as it should be. It was, in fact, almost in danger of blotting out the moon with its uppermost branches.

She thought about this for a moment.

She looked anger at it again, and there it was, growing in front of her eyes. The branches swelled, the knots and boles growing, dwindling, shifting position like muscles, reaching to claim more sky. The moon and Sei were both obscured, and the shadow of the tree swallowed the Guild offices.

She knew then that she had the power of stepping up into the sky to intervene. The roughs for the quarterly report were still in her hand. She flung them at the fountain. They fell short, wrapping themselves haphazardly around a laurel shrub. She'd had enough. She was going to go into the sky and stop the moon from killing Sei. Then she and Sei would make a pilgrimage together. They would travel, it didn't matter where. Maybe they would even forget to come back to Heian Kyo. She was almost certain she could talk Sei into it –

And then the stone hand was gripping her right wrist.

She spun, and put a hand on the stone arm. Fujiwara-dono was still standing in the same spot. Her long arm had reached out to grab Sei, but she seemed not to have moved otherwise, except that her head had turned, and she was looking at Youko, a fathomless look. She was still basalt, except that her eyes were now obsidian. They almost glowed black.

Youko saw that her own arm, the one Fujiwara-dono was clutching, was turning to basalt. The stone was creeping up her arm, turning the white of her robe to grey, advancing on her shoulder.

She looked Fujiwara-dono in her black glass eyes, and shook her head once, firmly.

The grey went back down, but stopped at her elbow. Youko kept pushing, and Fujiwara-dono kept pushing back.

Fujiwara-dono spoke, one word: "Love."

"Whose love?" Youko asked her urgently. "Mine? Yours? Sei's? The moon's?"

Fujiwara-dono grinned. Her teeth were black like her eyes.

Youko began to be afraid. _No,_ she told herself. _That won't do._ She performed the magic of transmuting her fear into anger, which she then controlled. She could control anger. Fear was harder. "And what do you want me to do about it?" she asked the statue.

The black smile did not waver.

There was still a little fear left in Youko. _To be killed, or to be exposed. Which is worse?_ The ruckus up above continued, making no sound but a violent, spastic play of shadows over Youko and all that was left of her teacher, stalemated for the moment in stone and chilled flesh…

* * *

"So," Satou-sama said, pondering. She looked around. A hand disappeared into her bedroll, and reappeared holding two worn lengths of straw. In that one hand, without her looking at them, her thumb and middle finger began weaving the straws together, with occasional help from her index finger. She stared up into the eerie half-darkness of the half-attic, and then at the shutters in the far wall back of the house, through which the queer light burned strongest.

It seemed to Yumi she'd seen this one-handed weaving trick before. "What are you doing, Satou-sama? The weaving –"

"Gathering power," Satou-sama muttered. She sniffed once, paused, then again three times rapidly. "Weaving strengthens; braiding binds. The finger seeks; the spirit finds..." Satou-sama half-sang this, then her voice was more ordinary again. Her eyes were shifting around, looking especially at the strange shadows made by the stranger light, shadows which kept moving slightly. "Something about all this... Worrisome. I'm going to have a try at waking Youko –"

"Sachiko-sama –" Yumi said anxiously. Then she looked down, ashamed.

She felt Satou-sama's hand on her cheek. "I know, Yumi sweet. It's all right. Sachiko next, all right? I need Youko's help."

They went towards the back of the room, moving to the garden side where a path had been left, so they wouldn't have to step among the sleepers. As they passed the sake-creature, it raised a blobby, indistinct hand in apparent greeting to Sei, without taking its three-eyed gaze off the cluster of cat-women by the opposite wall. Satou-sama cast a considering eye at them too – and, when Yumi pointed them out, at the ones that were still lurking up on the roof-beams – but the hissing, tail-twitching creatures seemed to be keeping their distance for the moment, and Satou-sama seemed to feel that they had more urgent business, for she whispered in Yumi's ear, "One absurd and foolish mystery at a time, my old wildlife expert." They stopped short of the still-open kitchen door, where Mizuno-sama lay, with Touko-san in her own bedroll just next to hers. They were hard by the shutters now, where the light was strongest, and Yumi couldn't look at the gaps between the slats because the light seemed almost to boil in her eyes if she opened them full on it, and made the room about her darker. She could hear a constant droning sound, like a chorus singing no particular song, in no particular key, with voices that were not human.

"There's something out there," Yumi whispered. Her fear, calmed considerably now that Satou-sama stood with her, was nevertheless still alive inside her.

She felt Satou-sama's hand on the back of her neck a moment later, and felt a bit better.

Satou-sama knelt close to Mizuno-sama and put a hand to her sleeping face, and her mouth to her ear. She sang:

While you here do snoring lie,  
Open-eyed conspiracy  
Her time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,  
Shake off slumber and beware:  
Awake! Awake!

Mizuno-sama's eyes opened, and it seemed that they had already been looking at Satou-sama. Always before, Mizuno-sama had seemed to Yumi a cool, formidable person, but the total vulnerability of sleep was still upon her now, and the look she gave Satou-sama was very soft, almost childlike. "Sei?..." she said softly.

"There's trouble, Youko," Satou-sama said.

But Mizuno-sama closed her eyes again.

Satou-sama blinked. "Not quite the reaction I was hoping for."

They shook Mizuno-sama a little, but she was asleep once more.

And there they sat.

"Should you try again, Satou-sama?"

Satou-sama seemed to struggle with herself. She had one hand still on Mizuno-sama's shoulder. "The enchantment's too strong, I think," she said at last. "I could expend a lot of energy and still not succeed, and the energy might be better spent after all following the enchantment back and attacking it at the root." She touched Mizuno-sama's cheek briefly. "It's difficult to know just how to proceed..."

Looking at Satou-sama's considering, worried, unsmiling face, with the scar on the right cheek more stark than Yumi had ever seen it, it almost seemed that Satou-sama was defeated. (Yumi also wondered, not for the first time, where Satou-sama had got the scar. One didn't like to ask her, somehow.) Yumi felt disappointment, and the increase of her own worry. She had allowed herself to hope that Satou-sama awakened would heal all harms, but she seemed to be as mystified by the situation as Yumi herself was; neither Mizuno-sama nor Sachiko-sama was awakeable, as it seemed; the problem was still what it had been. Yumi began to feel impatience and anger as well as disappointment and worry –

– but Satou-sama had said before, "When anyone needs help, we all help. Always... none of the younger sisters has disappointed us yet..."

Yumi now felt shame as well. Satou-sama had just woken up, and the situation was weird in the extreme. Satou-sama might still find a solution to the problem, if Yumi just stood by her, as Satou-sama, and all the others, had stood by Yumi only yesterday.

"Should... should we try to wake Fujiwara-dono?"

Satou-sama looked at Yumi blankly at first, then smiled and ruffled Yumi's hair again. "That's a good thought, duckling, but her chamber is connected to this one by a covered walkway, open to the weather. Until we have a better idea what that strange light is, and where exactly Yamiko-san has got to, it might be best not to take the risk. Everybody is depending on us, and if we commit inadvertent suicide, we'll be no help to them at all." She frowned. "I'll wager these transmogrified moggies have some notion, if we could only get them to open up a bit, and stop hissing at us." She glared at the cluster of strange creatures in the shadows, looking them defiantly in their glowing eyes. "The solution to one mystery might be the solution to the other, the two being so close together. Have you spoken to them?"

"No, Satou-sama. They haven't spoken to me either. They tried to attack me at first, but since one of them tried to pin the sake-creature and got a wetting for her pains, they've kept their distance. They may be as confused as we are."

"Did all the cats change form?" Satou-sama wondered. "I seem to remember there being more of them –"

Then they heard the scream. A girl's terrified scream, from around the middle of the long room.

"Momo!" Sei said, her eyes widening. She sprang forward instantly, and Yumi, who didn't understand, followed anyway...

* * *

Momoko was having the loveliest dream. In it, she and dear Mizuki-chan were walking in a field of flowers. "Do you like cats?" Mizuki-chan asked her in a gentle voice. Momoko said, "Yes." They walked on a little. It seemed to be late summer, by the flowers, but the sky was a strange, beautiful silvery grey although the sun was shining and there wasn't that oppressive feeling one gets in the air before a heavy rain. Mizuki-chan said, "Did you say that knowing that I am a cat?" And Momoko said, "Yes."

Now they were lying together in the lowest bough of a large katsura tree. Curiously, Momoko was lying in Mizuki-chan's lap, rather than the other way around. Mizuki-chan had grown, and seemed different whenever Momoko looked at her; now she looked like a large cat, and now she looked like a girl, a soft, sweet, gentle girl of the sort one meets in the country, visiting a shrine with her mother, and who has a roll of colored paper in which she writes poems, her own and other people's, and a white cat, and a passion for dominoes. Once, when Momoko looked at her, Mizuki-chan had two faces; the girl's face, looking at Momoko lovingly, and the cat's face, looking at the distant forest, blinking and licking her teeth. But this seemed quite natural to Momoko, as the strangest things will in dreams.

They spoke, but Momoko couldn't remember later what they said, only that everything Mizuki-chan said made Momoko love her more. They held one another closer and closer, and Momoko felt the most wonderful warm tingling sensation all over her body. She shifted a bit, and sighed...

The wonderful warm tingling sensation, and the sigh, survived the rest of the dream into wakefulness, where she found that the light was stronger and stranger, and the bedroll more crowded, than she remembered them. Mizuki-chan had unaccountably grown, and got one hand into Momoko's robes, and was rubbing her belly, and kissing her neck, and licking it with her rough tongue, and occasionally nipping it playfully with her pointy teeth. She was purring and chuckling sleepily.

Momoko screamed. Mizuki-chan screamed too; her strange, slit-pupilled green eyes were huge and her black, furry ears laid back in surprise and fear. Then there was the thumping of running feet on boards, and a voice crying out, trumpeting, "Here, you! Leave off this instant! Get out of it!" The bedroll jerked, as someone grabbed at the doings, and then there was a rush of cool air as it was flung open. And, with a wail, Mizuki-chan was gone.

And Momoko was trembling in the arms of Satou Sei-sama. Yumi-sama was there, too. Satou-sama was speaking gently, soothingly, patting her on the back. Yumi-sama was holding her hand. Momoko was safe. She began to calm down.

* * *

Mizuki was upset. She was still shaking off the muzziness and sleepiness of the day, of her other form, and of sleep itself. She had found herself lying intimately with someone warm, and had behaved the way she usually did in such circumstances. It was unusual to find that her bedfellow was wearing such a lot of clothing, but she hadn't given that, or anything else, a lot of thought. Now here she was perched on a roof-beam, trembling from reaction and annoyance.

She looked down, and found that the people were looking up. One in particular. She remembered being introduced to Momoko-san while a complete cat, the way one remembers something that happened in a dream. And she had actually dreamed about Momoko-san, something about the two of them lying in the bough of a tree, though most of the details had been scattered with her wits by Momoko-san's rather unusual method of waking a person up. She seemed to remember Momoko-san fitting her with a collar and a silver chain... and she remembered not minding that at all, which was how she knew for certain it was a dream.

Looking down, it occurred to her that Momoko-san was trembling even worse than she herself was.

_I must have frightened her._

"Momoko-san?" she called down. "Are you all right?"

"What are you?" came Momoko-san's trembling, tearful answer.

_"What"? "What" am I?_ "I am Mizuki," she said slowly. "We were introduced last night."

"Mizuki-chan was a _cat_!"

Mizuki growled. She picked a likely bit of the floor, between sleepers, and slid off the beam. She made a good landing, and turned to face the little huddle of persons regarding her suspiciously. "I _am_ a cat," she said, with carefully feigned patience. "Tail –" she twitched it – "ears –" she flicked them in three directions fast – "teeth –" she bared them briefly – "claws." She flourished them, then concealed them again. "And, most importantly, attitude. Yes, all parts are in place. I am a cat, from a long line of cats."

"The bloodline appears to have been adulterated at some point," said the tall one with straw-colored hair who was holding Momoko.

Mizuki didn't like it that this person was holding Momoko-san. _I will dislike this person,_ she thought. "Hwhat do you meeeannn?"

"I mean that you are obviously not completely human, but you're not completely a cat either," the person said. She was older than Momoko-san or the quieter girl with them, and seemed to Mizuki like a person to reckon with. _But I still don't like her._ "You have cat parts, but you're bigger than a cat, and less furry, and more human in the shape of your limbs –"

"Why must you humans always be so obsessed with categories and classifications?" Mizuki interrupted, sniffing. She was impatient with long speeches.

"Ordinarily I'm not much of a one for them myself," the person went on, in colder tones – _Hmmm, she sounds annoyed. Good._ – "Only when an uncategorizable creature molests my friends in the dead of night do I give it much thought. Are you a cat – you seemed to be one earlier – or are you – well, whatever _this_ is? I have never seen a creature like you before. You are beautiful, but strange. Can I not know what you are?"

"Do you really think it will help you?" Mizuki preened herself a bit. She was bored, though pleased to be thought beautiful.

"It might. You were a cat, not long ago, and Yamiko-san was human. Now you're closer to human, and Yamiko-san is closer to something else."

"You didn't even know she was a shape-changer?" These odd people were _so_ behind the times!

"I did know that." The wild-haired one was gritting her teeth. The quiet girl put a hand on her sleeve. Mizuki smirked a little. The wild-haired one went on, more calmly: "She has spoken to me of the curse she has lived under since childhood. I _didn't_ know her cats lived under the same curse. And what is this enchanted sleep which seems to have seized our friends?"

Mizuki had no idea, but why let on? She yawned, closing her eyes. "Must I explain all this?"

"Yes, and quickly." The wild-haired one was still calm, but she was standing now. She had let go of Momoko-san. _That's better._

"Mizuki, look out!" someone hissed from nearby – Katsuko, Mizuki saw; the reflections of her yellow eyes were quivering with excitement or fear or both – "They have strong magic! That one –" a wild arm-wave; Mizuki couldn't tell which one she meant – "covered Ami in disgusting liquid!"

"I will never be clean again!" Ami wailed. She was washing herself frantically. A few of the others were trying to help her. But they kept pausing to spit, so they weren't making much progress.

"The liquid has _form_!" Katsuko growled, and pointed across the room. "It crouches there, and has the face to stare at us!..."

Mizuki looked around, and saw the creature hunkered near the garden door. She couldn't think why she hadn't noticed it before. It was sitting very still, but the liquid of which it was made swirled, and the bright moonlight shining through it made patterns everywhere its strange, glowing shadow touched. She couldn't tell what it was looking at – its eyes were watery, like the rest of it – but she thought it might be looking at everything, and everyone. Mizuki's confidence drooped a little as she took in its form, and its ready posture, and drooped more when she realized that she was between it and the little group of mysterious women, and that little group was between her and her friends.

"I'm not a violent person," the straw-haired one went on, softly, "but we need to understand this situation, and we need you to be a little more helpful. So, the yawning? And the superior attitude? Drop them."

"Please don't, Satou-sama," said Momoko-san. And she stood.

The straw-haired one – Satou-sama, it seemed – put a hand on her shoulder, saying "Momo!" urgently.

Momoko-san looked at Satou-sama. After a pause, Satou-sama removed her hand, and watched Momoko-san. Consideringly.

And Momoko-san walked to Mizuki, and took her hand, and looked up into her eyes.

This cut through Mizuki's fear and rage, clearing her head. It was strange, looking at this person she knew, and didn't know; standing with her for what seemed, and did not seem, the first time. She had been a cat when she had first known Momoko-san, and then she had been a dream, and now she was tall and on her hind legs like Momoko-san. Three of her, but it was as if there were also three of Momoko-san, or more: one a sweet, shy girl, one a dream, and this one a woman, almost a queen, a woman to be reckoned with.

"We must not harm Mizuki-chan," Momoko-san said, addressing Satou-sama apparently, but still looking into Mizuki's eyes. "We must ask for her help, and the help of her friends."

Satou-sama said, "Really? I thought you were a bit annoyed about the attempted rape."

Here some of the clumsy girl came back to Momoko-san's face. "I was! But... I guess I was just startled," she said in a wondering, embarrassed way. "I was half asleep. I think Mizuki-chan was too. I don't think she meant any harm." Mizuki shook her head, and Momoko-san nodded. "I want..."

"You want?..."

"I want us to be friends," Momoko-san said. Lamely, a bit embarrassed.

There was silence. Then Satou-sama and the quiet girl were walking slowly towards Mizuki.

"Because Momoko asks it..." Satou-sama said – a question?

_Maybe I'll have to like her after all._ Mizuki sighed. "I'll tell you what I know. Which isn't much."

Her compatriots hissed and yowled, outraged at this concession. Satou-sama rolled her eyes and muttered something Mizuki couldn't hear.

* * *

Yamiko dreams...

But when a person as old as Yamiko dreams, it's awfully hard to explain her dreams to anyone else, or even describe them.

A mere child of seven, she sits around the fire-pit with her first family. They are very different from the people she has just spent the evening with: shabbily dressed, by Heian standards, and none of them can read or write. And none of them knows a single Chinese word, even reworked Japanese-style. They've heard of the Middle Kingdom, but they know little about it, and care less. And their clothing is made for hard-lasting capabilities, rather than any aspirations to high fashion.

What _do_ they know? They know a little rice farming. The men (mostly just the men) know how to hunt, and gather edible plants. The women understand weaving and the making of clothes, which doesn't sound like much until you realize that none of the other activities is possible without clothes. Once, perhaps, for their distant ancestors, but not anymore.

They know songs and stories. Everyone knows songs and stories, even now, when we pay other people to know them for us, but these people really know songs and stories, because they're the only ones who do, or can, in their world. There is no one else here, so it must be them. Duty? Need? Hunger? Love? All of these things, and more.

They know about kami. They have to know about kami. They live in a chaotic world, where storms rage, and the earth shakes, and strange things come out of the night, and you can't go running to a policeman for help. The kami are the police – and they might help you, or they might not – they might hurt you, come to that – but they are all that brings order to this chaos.

This family, huddled around their fire, feel the shadow passing over their little clay house – just a little moonlight can be seen through the smoke-hole, and it is obscured for a moment, but a bird could have caused that, or a quick cloud on this windy night. There is also a sudden heaviness to the sound of the wind, and an indefinable sense of impossible weight hanging over their heads, married to the cringing alarm up and down everyone's spines, the heritage of deep racial memory: the warning that there is a predator in the vicinity, hunting for meat, a large toothy thing out of the night, larger and stranger than anything even they have ever seen. Almost they can smell it, a musk like dunged earth and lightning.

Yamiko – that isn't her name, not yet – all of seven years old, and a little tough like you've never seen, baked and tanned by the sun, battle-hardened by hours of hunting and roaming the forest with her father and uncles and brothers, scarred already, fierce-eyed like a hawk – looks up, and feels something that makes her lean a little closer to her mother, seated next to her. Her mother is also looking up, but she puts an arm about her daughter, who for once doesn't struggle.

A year from today, everyone else in the house will be dead, and the house itself will be destroyed. Yamiko will be the only one left. She will wander far, under her curse, and see much, and live long, but she will never find out what it was that passed over her house on this night when she was seven years old. She still wonders about it and, as you can see, still dreams about it. Some nights – thankfully, not tonight – she sees it in her dreams, or almost thinks she does. Tonight, all she sees is her family circle, in their home, one of her clearest memories of them, and she thinks she's still there, still the mad-eyed little huntress taught and shaped and scolded and slapped and cherished by her loving, if somewhat-bemused-by-her, family. The one place where she was completely, unconsciously happy, because she didn't know yet what sadness was.

This is what she dreams, in her mind, while her clever body is out moving in the night, casting its long and terrible shadow in the moonlight.

* * *

Yumi drew her head back from the shutters. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw that Satou-sama had done the same thing at the same moment. They looked at one another.

"It looks like the moon," Satou-sama said.

"Un," Yumi nodded.

"The light is brighter, more _concentrated_ than I've ever seen moonlight get, but the thing giving off that light looks very like the changeable mistress, the moon we all know and love."

"Un," Yumi nodded again.

"If it didn't seem to be nearly as big around as fat old Yukito at the Saiji baths," Satou-sama added, "and if it weren't floating seven handspans, eight at most, above Yamiko-san's depopulated koi pond, I'd even think it _was_ the moon. But that, of course, is the rub."

Most of the cat-women sat in a rough semicircle behind them. This truce was an uneasy one, to say the least. Mizuki-san was the only one Yumi was sure of; it seemed clear by now that Mizuki-san would not go against anything Momoko-san said. Momoko-san was sitting right there next to Mizuki-san, with one of Mizuki-san's arms around her shoulders. The politics of this coven of cats was unclear in its arrangements, but Mizuki-san seemed to be one of its more respected members. Most of the others seemed ready to defer either to her, or to one of the other two opinion-makers, the only others who had joined Yumi and Satou-sama right by the shutters: the furred-all-over one called Ami-sama, who seemed to be the eldest, and Katsuko-san, the yellow-eyed one who had come after Yumi when she was getting out of her bedroll. Mizuki-san and Katsuko-san both wore leather jerkins – the only two of the cat-women who wore any clothing at all. They both seemed like pretty rough-and-ready people, and they seemed to be friends, though currently having a disagreement – about what, Yumi could not so much as speculate. The others, though just as well clawed and fanged, seemed tame by comparison. Ami-sama's authority came from age, and from something that passed with the others as wisdom, though to Yumi, Ami-sama looked a complete child next to Fujiwara-dono. Ami-sama had reacted to Mizuki-san's insistence on truce with indignation, and Katsuko-san by sulking. Ami-sama still had not forgiven Yumi for drenching her in sake. But she had finally told the others to stop trying to clean her fur; she would go out and find a river or a pond to take a dip in when it was... convenient to do so.

"As disgusting as that will be," she had added with a fierce glare at Yumi, "this is worse."

Yumi had bowed deeply and apologized with the utmost formality, for what must have been the seventh time. None of her apologies had improved the atmosphere, but at least it wasn't getting any worse. Anyway, they were wary of Satou-sama – Katsuko-san kept glowering at Satou-sama as if she found her mere presence offensive – and they were definitely wary of the sake-creature, which was keeping its distance as Yumi had desired it to – still crouching over Yumi's sleeping mistress – but continued to keep its unfocused yet unwavering gaze on the group by the shutters, as if it were noting every move made, every word said. It made some of the cat-women nervous, but the consensus seemed to be that it was better to be watched by the thing than landed on.

Satou-sama turned to look at Mizuki-san. "This – _extra moon_ business. Does it happen often? I ask out of some concern."

"Every night."

"What does it _do_?"

"It floats around out there. Sheds light on things." Mizuki-san shrugged. "It obeys its mistress."

"Who is this mistress?"

This set off an exchange of many incandescent glances, to and fro. The cat-women were facing the glowing shutters, and their eyes picked up even indirect moonlight, or whatever-it-was light, in a downright eerie way.

"She is the ghost of Ren-san –" A whiskered one with black tufts on the backs of her hands.

"She's _not_ Ren-san. Preposterous." This was Ami-sama, at her most imperious.

"But she _looks_ like Ren-san –" A plump one with very large ears.

"She does. But she isn't. Absurd." Ami-sama again.

"She floats in the air with her moon –" A wild-eyed, trembling one whose tail lashed about uncontrollably.

"She'll stand on it, and the whole world is at her feet –" Another tail-lasher and paw-wringer. Her sister, no doubt.

"She is the mistress of the moon and all beneath it!" A small slender one with black and white patches of fur all over her chest.

"Even _our_ mistress must do as she says, and our mistress is not to be commanded –" The trembler again.

"Our mistress is not herself these days –" Mizuki-san said defensively.

"Let me get one thing straight," Satou-sama said, cutting through the fog of contradictory declarations with a quick shake of one hand. "Ren-san is definitely dead?"

"In late winter," Ami-sama said firmly, almost coldly. "A wasting illness."

"I see," Satou-sama said after a pause. Her voice was a bit rough, which startled Yumi. "I was hoping that wasn't so. I liked Ren-san. I imagine Yamiko-san was – distraught?"

"She was furious."

"Furious?" Satou-sama blinked. "At her dying lover?"

"At herself. She had been in one of her moods – you know how she gets sometimes? She turns in on herself. She doesn't want to acknowledge anything or anyone."

"Moping."

"In a way. In a way. Ren-san never liked to disturb Mistress when she was in those moods, so she didn't tell Mistress she was sick. I guess she didn't know she was dying. When she did die, Mistress ran mad. We all had to step very carefully for a while –"

"We still do!" The second of the tail-lashers.

"The worst of it has passed." Mizuki-san.

"Now the ghost of Ren-san is here to comfort her, she's less difficult," a calm, quiet little white-eared creature at the back put in. But no one even looked at her, except for Ami-sama.

"Nitwit! That is _not_ the ghost of Ren-san."

White-ear-san looked at the floor.

"Why _are_ you so sure of that, Ami-sama?" the second tail-lasher wondered.

Ami-sama paused a moment to reflect. "She doesn't smell like Ren-san."

"Of _course_ she doesn't, you _simpleton_. She's a _ghost_. She doesn't smell of _anything_." The first tail-lasher tisked and rolled her eyes.

"You watch yourself!" Ami-sama hissed at the insolent one. She got back a defiant stare with slightly laid-back ears, but no further noise.

"That's not true." Katsuko-san was speaking, for the first time in a while. She had a rough, light little voice like sandstone. "She does give off a faint odor. It's hard to say _of what_, though, because I've never smelled anything like it. But it's nothing like Ren-san."

"Anyway, I wasn't _just_ talking about smell, when I said smell," Ami-sama said.

Many tufted ears cocked quizzically at this.

"Her whole manner, her whole attitude, is not that of Ren-san," Ami-sama went on. "Ren-san had power over Mistress, but she avoided using it. This one not only uses it, but _enjoys_ using it. She is a Queen, as Ren-san never could have been, because Ren-san underestimated herself –"

"But where _is_ this Queen?" Satou-sama interrupted again. "Her moon is out there. Where is _she_?"

"I don't know," Ami-sama said, reluctantly. "She's usually out there waiting for Mistress. Mistress brings her a live animal, a deer usually, and the ghost drinks its blood."

And there was a stunned silence from the humans, accompanied by nonchalant, carnivorously glowing eyes gazing unconcernedly into the abyss. Yumi's throat had closed. She looked from the cat-women to Satou-sama, who was wide-eyed and pale.

"Well, well," Satou-sama said softly at last. "A Queen, and a blood-drinking ghost, with a pet moon, and she looks like Yamiko-san's dead lover, but doesn't smell like her. Just imagine it." She looked at Mizuki-san, who looked back, apparently confused. "And you haven't asked Yamiko-san about it?"

Momoko-san had hidden her face in Mizuki-san's shoulder. Stroking her hair, trying to comfort her, Mizuki-san said, "We couldn't very well... by the time she comes back in the morning, we've all turned normal again. We can still communicate with her, but only about simple, straightforward things – 'we're hungry,' 'you smell good,' 'let us out so we can pee,' and like that. We can't go into specifics, like, oh –"

"'– you seem to be possessed by a blood-drinking ghost, are you all right?'" Satou-sama suggested.

Mizuki-san frowned. "She's always in a bit of a daze anyway; she doesn't seem to remember what she's been doing. But we can't tell her about it."

Yumi was getting more nervous by the moment. She put her face back to the shutters and looked out at the improbable moon. Satou-sama was busy, and somebody ought to be keeping an eye out.

"What about that, anyway?" Satou-sama wanted to know. "You all change into human –" _hiss, hiss, hiss,_ "– almost-human form at the same hour Yamiko-san changes into her beast form. How does that happen?"

This was answered by a lot of vague, disinterested murmuring. Ami-sama said, "It started very recently," and sounded unable, or unwilling, to say more on the subject.

Satou-sama went on, with a little annoyance evident in her voice, "And why don't all of you change? There are still ordinary cats in the rafters, and the attic. I saw them."

"Those are the _boys_," Katsuko-san said with bored disgust.

"_They_ don't change. They're too _insensitive_," said the second tail-lasher, as if it were obvious.

"I wish they _would_ change," Ami-sama said discontendedly.

"I'm just as well pleased," Katsuko-san drawled. "Being in this form keeps them off my butt for a little while, at least. The rest of the time, it's fight, fight, fight."

There was a white shape floating out of the sky, and landing on the glowing moon, and a giant dark shape coming out of the trees, slinking low over the grass, and Yumi was so astonished, she forgot for a moment that she should give the warning – "Satou-sama! They're here!"

* * *

_Ren stands on her moon, looking affectionately down at the monster cat._

_It has brought her a present in its wide mouth: a stag deer, still alive, but in shock, a consequence of terror; it twitches briefly as the monster-cat, the child of the dark, lays it down, where Ren's feet would be if she weren't hovering in midair._

_The beautiful, terrible Yamiko-monster _yowls_ an almost gentle yowl, and looks up at Ren expectantly. The beast's coat is black, with dark red stripes which glint eerily, gorgeously in the light of the loving moon. Her mouth is open in a snarl, and she slinks forward, the huge muscles of her shoulders bunching, her head neither rising nor falling with her movements._

_Ren's moon watches them both, without comment. It doesn't usually have much to say. It spins a bit, keeping its careful watch, with no eyes._

_Ren thinks, _My creature_._

_The Yamiko-monster yowls again, and transforms. She is the Yamiko-woman again, tall, comely, wild, and wholly absorbed in Ren. "Beloved," she whispers._

_As it should be, Ren feels. As it should have been, from the beginning._

_She comes not quite to earth, to Yamiko-woman's embrace. She touches her teeth to Yamiko-woman's throat, and drinks briefly. Only a taste. It would be the height of bad manners, as well as downright unromantic, to glut herself on her beloved sweet precious._

_Yamiko-woman moans, and tangles her fingers in Ren's hair._

_Ren smiles, and giggles, against the soft flesh of Yamiko-woman's throatie, and lifts her mouth from it, leaving not a trace of a scar, not a drop of blood. She caresses this dear throat with infinite respect, smiling, and then lids her eyes when she feels Yamiko-woman's hands stealing into her robes, and making themselves at home there. Her pet cobra pokes its head out of her hood and looks at her, as if confused. She sighs._

_But there is business at hand. She keeps her form relaxed, but her mind narrows to a point._

Your servants, my heart,_ she thinks softly into Yamiko-woman's head, _are fools.

_Yamiko-woman's hands pause in their explorations. "How so, my darling one?"_

They cannot even handle a single lot of intruders. All but three of the enemy are asleep. Why do they dither so? All that prowling about and hissing, letting the moonlight glister on their fangs – no doubt it _looks_ impressive, but it is nothing to the purpose.

_There is a silence. The cobra goes back into her hood, making itself scarce. It can't bear scenes._

_Yamiko-woman, her wonderful body wonderful against Ren, the most delightful mixture of hard places and soft places, says with dreamy confusion, "You call them 'servants,' and talk as if they were an army. They are cats. They tend not to accept discipline from any but themselves. And you talk of the humans as 'enemies,' when in fact they are my guests, love. Two of them are dear friends of mine..."_

_Yamiko-woman's voice holds unnerving hints of lucidity._

_Ren wraps one leg around Yamiko-woman. She presses her softness against her toy, her child, her mistress, her beloved, and whispers the thought again: _They are the enemy.

_Silence._

_"They... are..."_

They are the enemy.

_Silence._

_"They are... the enemy."_

If they live,_ Ren whispers, _I cannot stay here, with you, or ever return. It will be as if I had died.

_Yamiko-woman makes a noise that would have been a howl if she had let it out of her throat._

Remember when you thought I had died? How you felt?

_Yamiko-woman grinds her teeth. "Lost – broken – half-dead myself –"_

You will feel that way again. And this time, it won't ever end.

_Through her teeth, Yamiko-woman says, "They are _guests_ – "_

_Ren tries to stifle her rage, her impatience. _Which is more important? A guest in your home, or your love in your arms?

_Yamiko-woman's eyes, having squeezed shut as she struggled inside, now open wide in shock, and she stares at Ren. Slowly, almost roughly, she takes Ren's shoulders and sets her down, on her feet._

_"I know what _Ren_ would say to that," she growls._

_Ren lays a hand lightly on Yamiko-woman's right wrist._

I am Ren,_ she thinks._

_Yamiko-woman falls to her knees._

_Ren will never tire of the thrill she feels, that this proud, powerful creature is under her control. _What you do is up to you. As always.

_Yamiko-woman puts a trembling hand on the hand that gently grasps her wrist, and she bows her head, and she breathes._

I put an enchanted sleep on them, because I wanted to _protect_ them. But three of them have insisted on waking up. I don't know how. Our secret is out, or will be soon: they know something is going on. It can't be hidden. And we can only continue as we are if no one else knows about us.

_Even in her pain, Yamiko-woman pats Ren's hand comfortingly. Ren is very moved by this, but slaps it. She must be firm._

So if you will not do the necessary, then I must leave. Do you want that?... Do you?

_Yamiko-woman whines._

_Ren is a little disgusted now. _I leave it up to you._ She lets go of Yamiko-woman's wrist._

_Yamiko-woman crouches there. She is still looking down._

_"Forgive me, Ren. I will do as you ask."_

_Ren smiles, and reaches down to touch Yamiko-woman's cheek. The poor thing is cold._

_But then she turns away, towards the still-trembling, comatose deer. If she's going to fight, she had better feed first…_

* * *

Yumi was doing her best to remain calm. "Satou-sama, we have to do something. She'll be here soon – Mistress, and everybody, they're all –"

"The sleepers are safe, for now," said Satou-sama. "She won't bother to kill them until us lively ones are taken care of. Yon sanguinivore seems a practical beastie." She looked at the cat-women. "But what are _you_ going to do? Eh?"

There was silence. Many of them were sleeping, or pretending to. Some were washing each other unconcernedly. The washing was strange to Yumi; or rather, it seemed perfectly natural to her that cat-women should wash each others' heads with their tongues, and yet it also seemed to her that it _shouldn't_ seem natural. She looked away, confused.

Then her head was forced up, by a clawed hand on her chin – Yumi gasped, but more from surprise than pain – and she was looking into the yellow, unreadable eyes of Katsuko-san.

"These are humans," Katsuko-san said, "and outsiders. Slow, stupid, blundering creatures, who wandered in here uninvited. If our mistress wants them dead –"

"She doesn't want us dead," Yumi said. She was still afraid of whatever was outside, but for some reason she felt no fear of Katsuko-san. She just wished Katsuko-san would let go of her face. "She's glamoured, now. You saw how she resisted, didn't you? If she kills us all, she will hate herself later. Especially Fujiwara-dono and Satou-sama, they're her _friends_ –"

Katsuko-san pulled up a little on Yumi's chin. "She can stay with her love, in illusion, or she can be all alone, in your beautiful human reality. Which way will she be happiest? That's the –"

Katsuko-san stopped talking then because there was a blade against her throat.

There was a pause while the assembled cat-women stared at Satou-sama, and Satou-sama and her hostage stared at one another. From outside, there was a long, unhappy-sounding groan: the dying deer.

"We slow, stupid humans are outnumbered and in great danger," Satou-sama said softly, "and I suppose I should be adopting a conciliatory attitude here. I will in a moment, but first you will take your hand off her chin, or I'll have your guts for lute-strings."

Katsuko-san took her hand off Yumi's chin. She seemed uncertain for the first time since Yumi had seen her, even – rebuked? put down? She looked at the knife as if it had hurt her feelings.

Satou-sama made a quick, subtle motion with her hands, and the knife was gone. "Cold reality is better than illusory love, to answer your question," she told Katsuko-san gently, as if nothing had happened. "No matter how you cling to it, the illusion is gone eventually, like the morning mist, and there's nothing to do but pick up the pieces, and regret the things you said and did."

"What do you know about it?" A defiant, slit-pupilled look.

"Everything." A calm, unsmiling, scarred one in return.

Katsuko-san looked away. Not surprising. Yumi wasn't in the staring-contest, and _she_ could barely keep her eyes on Satou-sama's face.

"You didn't have to use a knife," Katsuko-san mumbled reproachfully.

Satou-sama looked surprised. Then she slapped Katsuko-san affectionately on top of her head. Katsuko-san's ears went flat and she put her arms up, yowling a little in annoyance. "Be thankful it was me and not Yumi's mistress," Satou-sama said easily. "Sachiko might not have bothered with a warning."

Then Satou-sama looked at the others, serious again. "Give her back her cold reality, and maybe another lover will come along. But this midnight passion looks unhealthful to me. Don't you agree?"

There was more silence. Ami-sama moved to join the seated ones. Katsuko-san moved away from the shutters but, oddly, didn't join the others. She leaned on the wall by the kitchen door, looking down at her feet. She seemed to be sulking still.

Satou-sama turned and started looking out the shutters again. She squinted between two fingers, trying to protect her eyes from the glare.

Yumi found this puzzling. She went to stand by Satou-sama. "What are the cat-women doing, Satou-sama?"

"Deliberating," was the terse reply. Then, with pity in her voice: "Ah, the animal is still struggling. How she savors a meal!..."

Yumi decided to ignore that. "They're not talking, Satou-sama."

"Cats have their own way of deliberating. It's frustrating, at such a time, but you can't expect them to make a decision any other way."

Satou-sama looked calmer – and more herself – than she had since Yumi had wakened her. She didn't present her usual picture of irrepressible glee, but her small smile was steady. Yumi knew that whatever had troubled Satou-sama was still troubling her. She wondered if she really needed to know what it was or merely wanted to. She was pretty sure she didn't have the right to ask Satou-sama what it was, but there was no one else here who _could_ ask her, and... "I was wondering about, about what you were telling Katsuko-san just now –"

"I can't tell you."

She wasn't cold, but she was cooler than she'd ever been, to Yumi. Yumi had almost expected it, and had braced herself for it, but found that it hurt anyway. She looked down. "I'm sorry, Satou-sama, it's only that you seemed –"

"I can't tell you because there isn't time."

Yumi looked up again.

"If I were to tell any thoroughly charming girl I'd only known a few days, it would be you, Yumi. But it's a long story, and there's a killer moon at the door. And I doubt you'd believe above half of it even if I told you."

Yumi only looked some more. The suddenly fragile smile, the almost defenseless grey eyes, under the tousled yellow hair –

"All right. If any near-total stranger were to believe me, again, I'm sure it would be you. But there still isn't time."

"You seem calmer now," Yumi said. "As if you think you know what's going on."

Satou-sama sighed. "Persistent, aren't you? Like your mistress. All I'll say is, the situation Yamiko-san is in is horribly familiar to me. I think this creature is very like a creature I knew before. I was caught in just such a trap then – savvy? – and I might well have died of it if not for friendship. That's why we have to stand Yamiko-san's friends now, she may never have needed it so badly in her life –"

Anger and tears had crept into her voice, and she stopped herself talking. She looked away. She turned half away from Yumi, and glared at the glowing shutters. "'I am the foam on the wave; I am the beast in the water'..." she murmured.

Yumi stopped thinking. It wasn't helping her or Satou-sama right now. There was really only one thing to do. It seemed to help Sachiko-sama, so... she went to her, this strange, mad woman she'd known such a short time, and come to trust in spite of the fact that she clearly couldn't be trusted, and she put her hands on a rigid arm, and leaned her head on a tense shoulder.

"Sei-sama," she said softly.

The arm and the shoulder both relaxed. Yumi didn't look up.

She felt a familiar hand ruffle her hair, and smiled.

* * *

Sei put a hand on one of Yumi's hands. This was nostalgic. _She_ had been like this. Shimako wasn't like this with Sei; the benefit there was that they gave each other distance, autonomy, while both knowing that if there was a real need, the other was there, within shouting distance. But Yumi...

Sei pulled herself up short, before she started thinking thoughts she shouldn't think about Sachiko's imouto. Other thoughts were taking shape: dragonish thoughts. A good sign. Yumi had waked the dragon in Sei, and it was about time something did –

Outside, Yamiko-san was rising from her knees. Sei thought the set of her shoulders intimately familiar. They had run out of time. _"I am the winding of the horn; I am the raven on the rock; I am the cat who hunts the raven." Let the raven speak._ "Yumi, you have given me your certainty. You have honored me, my sweeting. I must ask something else of you now. It is a hard thing I ask, and I wouldn't, if I wasn't almost certain you were up to it."

"Yes, Sei-sama?"

I need you to deal with Yamiko-san, while I deal with the witch."

Yumi was quiet a moment. She had begun to tremble. She didn't let go of Sei's arm, or take her head away from her shoulder. "Sei-sama –"

"Please, Yumi," Sei said urgently. "This witch, or ghost, or what-she-may-be – she's a powerful one. I'm actually not sure I can take her, and I know I can't take her and Yamiko-san together. Everyone is relying on us. I can't ask Momo, she's fresh-caught; I think there is a great sorceress in her, waiting her day, but right now it would be murder, sending her into a fight like this. You're fresh-caught too, but you're _different_. I've seen what you're capable of. Do you think you could, well, enrage Yamiko-san somehow?... draw her off, into the trees?... You led that demon a merry dance of it, the other day, and you managed to stay well ahead of it, for a long time..."

Yumi stepped away from her. For a moment, Sei thought she had asked for too much – Yumi was still trembling – but then she saw Yumi's sweet smile, and her eyes, strangely dark, even in the glow from the shutters.

"That was in the streets," Yumi said. "I was exposed. In the trees, I think I might do better. And I have an idea..."

"You'll do it?" Sei felt a grin surfacing on her face. She was beginning to feel really good for the first time since she'd woken up.

"For you," Yumi said. "For Mistress. And all the others." There was such sweetness in Yumi's smile. "But mostly for you, Sei-sama. I still have to pay you back for last night."

Sei put a hand to Yumi's cheek. They just stood like that a moment, in the light from the shutters. "I won't forget this, Yumi."

Then they turned, as one.

* * *

Yumi was frightened now, but she felt a little stronger. _Well, feel a _lot_ stronger,_ she commanded herself. She wanted Sachiko-sama, that was her trouble. She felt strong and safe when Sachiko-sama was there. But Sachiko-sama couldn't always be there, and what would Yumi do when she wasn't? What had Yumi done before she'd met Sachiko-sama? Sei-sama trusted her, and she had to live up to the trust, or she wasn't worthy to stand with Sachiko-sama and the rest of them...

_Sachiko-sama protects me when she's awake. Now I have to protect her when she's asleep. My duty to her is nothing less._

She looked down the room at her sake-creature, a meaning look.

It nodded once, very clearly.

"Please," Sei-sama was saying to the cat-women. "Time is short. I know it's futile, asking cats to hurry, but soon it will be too late."

Mizuki-san turned to the others. "I think we should help them," she said.

This seemed to touch off another frenetic round of self-washing unrest and closed-eye meditation. "Of course you do," Ami-sama said, with a sour look at Momoko-san.

"Then consider this," Sei-sama said. "I suspect that this ghost killed Ren-san."

Considerably more alertness at this.

"Ren-san died of an illness," said Ami-sama, scornfully.

"A _wasting_ illness," said Katsuko-san in her small, rough voice. She had stepped away from the wall, and was looking at Sei-sama intently with her shining yellow eyes.

Now there were many surprised glances exchanged, and some staring at the shutters.

"I'm with them too," said Katsuko-san. "You lot do as you please."

Yumi went to the shutters and peered through, and what she saw made her tremble. "Satou-sama! She's changed back into the giant cat!"

"What do you want us to do?" said White-ear-san.

"If you don't do anything to help her kill us, that's enough for me," Sei-sama said. "I won't ask you to try to hurt her. If you don't want to be a part of this, just stay in here. Momoko –"

"We'll look after our sisters," Momoko-san said unexpectedly. Mizuki-san nodded.

Sei-sama nodded back. "Thank you. You do your best, and so shall we."

The light was moving, now. It printed every detail of the shutters on the floor in rolling relief, and disappeared at the corner of the house. Yumi and Satou-sama and Momoko-san and the cat-women looked at it and at the shifting shapes and shadows with great wonder and fear. The light at the garden door was becoming brighter, and brighter still –

"I have to go out there now," Sei-sama said.


	13. and Waking

And here's the rest of it. I don't have anything to add, really. Sorry again about the wait, and I hope it's worth the wait, and I'll try to make the next wait not so long.

* * *

IX. ...and Waking

Sei went to the door and opened it, and stepped through. Yumi was right behind her. "Close it after you," Sei said quickly.

The broken, silent water harp was nearest the garden door, and then came the dry fountain, and then the sludgy koi pond, in a rough, staggered line moving toward the back of the house, where the moon glowed, huge and yellow, moving toward them. The vile ghost, the un-Ren, stood on top of it, a serpent coiling around her feet. Sei saw clearly for the first time how much she looked like Ren-san – apart from her eyes, which were a deep, deep black, with no whites visible – and she felt both anger and uncertainty. Below the moon, the great cat Yamiko-san, shining black with red glints, slowly crept toward them, moving deftly around the jutting crags of the fountain. Then the un-Ren paused in her glide, seeming to consider them, as the sound of the garden door closing reached Sei's ears.

The un-Ren didn't say anything, and yet Sei felt the words: _So, you betray your mistress?_

A quick glance to her flanks told Sei what was meant by this: Yumi was beside her as expected – she was trembling a little, but she had a brave face on. But little Katsuko was also there, at Sei's other side, close enough to hold hands. Sei smiled at her, wishing there was time to ask the girl what the hell was up with her. Katsuko made a twisty mouth and looked away. Sei looked back toward her opponents. They had moved a little closer.

_Take the strong one first,_ the un-Ren said.

Yamiko-san bunched, shrank, tightened and leapt majestically, straight for Sei. The heaviness of her shadow smote Sei like a blow, but Sei had drawn her sword in a winking.

Before she could do anything, however, the panther was met in mid-air by a thing that rippled and shone and flashed in the light of the earthbound moon. There was a splashing sound, and a muffled, gargling _yowl!_ and the panther fell to earth, several paces short of Sei.

Yumi's sake-creature recollected itself, and stood in a crouch.

Sei grinned, the grin with _all_ her teeth that made her enemies whimper with annoyance. She could almost have sworn she saw a smug expression on the sake-creature's blobby, three-eyed face. Well, it was entitled.

_What have you done to her!_ came the shout in Sei's mind. The un-Ren jumped down off the moon, the snake climbing her and coiling about her shoulders. But Sei intervened before the un-Ren could get to Yamiko-san, waving her sword like a lunatic. "Ya-HAH!" she shouted, and the un-Ren leapt back, an astonished look in her eyes.

* * *

Yumi watched in amazement as Sei-sama launched herself at the ghostly woman like a child playing with a toy sword. The creature actually fled, briefly, like a bird and yet like a mist and yet like neither, before stopping and turning upon Sei-sama with a glare. _No time,_ Yumi told herself. _Here goes –_

She knelt down by the prone cat-beast, Yamiko-sama as she must be, who was hacking and spitting, seemingly as revolted by sake in her feline form as any of the catwomen in the house. Yumi spoke right into the cat's ear, in a piping, but clear voice:

"You know Ren-san is dead. You, you saw her die, didn't you?"

The cat stared at her, its eyes glowing a dull red. It was struggling to get on its feet again, and when it did, Yumi knew there would be trouble.

"I never knew Ren-san," she went on, "so you'll have to tell me. Did she have her own moon? Did she have a pet snake?"

A ratcheting growl.

"Sei-sama tells me that she was a gentle person, and an excellent hostess. Would she have told you to murder guests?"

The cat roared, and leapt, and Yumi danced away...

* * *

_Ren pulls herself up short, her embarrassment crystallizing into fury, and turns on this dancing ass with the sword. She releases a bolt of sky-fire from one fist, shouting, _Fool!

_And then starts as the bolt comes back at her. It doesn't hurt her, of course. She just absorbs it. But it wasn't supposed to come back –_

_The mad, foolish, surprise sorceress with the tousled yellow hair looks back at her. Her feet are bare, and in a guard stance. She is dressed in strange trousers that cling tight to her shapely, strong legs, and a large white shirt that hangs loose about her torso, making one think of a child wearing her father's shirt, at least until one sees her move in it. Her free hand stretches out before her, trembling and slightly blackened; she has deflected the sky-fire with it. In her other hand, the sword does a brief twirl, making moonlight dance, as if of its own accord, without instructions from the hand that holds it. "'I am the word of knowledge,'" she says. "'I am the speaker of the word.'" She doesn't sound as if she is really speaking to Ren, though her gaze is fixed on Ren. She is dancing very slightly from foot to foot._

_Looking at that smiling, pale, scarred face, and feeling the words sink into her mind, Ren begins to have an understanding of how much trouble this one is going to be. She banks the fires of her sudden rage and spreads herself over with smooth, sweet ice. After all, it's more amusing than anything. _The word of knowledge,_ she purrs at her adversary, putting lulling tones in her voice. _Well, isn't that fine. What is your name, strange voyager?

_"See if you can guess it."_

_Ren hears a gasp. The merest glance finds out the source: the stupid cat who followed the sorceress out of the house is half-crouched at the sorceress's right hand and staring up at her with a look in her eyes that makes Ren's lip curl with mirth. Hero-worship, she thinks. The silly little twit._

_She turns her attention back to the vastly more significant person present. _What if I know your name already, but won't say it?_ she teases._

_"A name you haven't the courage to speak has no power," says the sorceress lightly. "What sort of blood-drinking magical ghost are you, that you don't even know that? No, no, my dear old cloud of gaseous bird-droppings, there is no hesitation in these matters. Just say something, if you've got something to say."_

_Ren is perplexed. She has been trying to summon her dear Yamiko-monster to take this prattling showoff from behind and tear her in two with her teeth, but Yamiko-monster is gone. Why would she leave at such a critical moment? she wondered. And where is the other girl who came out of the house? – No time. Perhaps there's more than one dangerous human awake. Take care of this one, first. You know how to take care of this one. She talks bravely, and dances well, but the more she talks, the more you can hear the fear singing in her voice… _I'm curious, my dear, strange traveler from far lands. You say you are the word of knowledge, and the speaker of the word? How can you be both at once? Isn't that rather difficult?

_"I'm pleased you're curious," says the traveler. "'I am the sound of the wind before; I am the world after the word is spoken.'"_

_More of those words. Ren hates the sound of them. She will stop their flow now. Insinuatingly, she says, How many different things you are, all at once. Can you be in two places at once?_

_And as she says the words Ren reflects herself, and there are two of her, one on either side of the traveler. The traveler's eyes widen, her feet blur as she tries to get out from between them. The stupid cat, startled, moves with a hiss to attack the Ren at the traveler's left hand, but a beam of light from Ren's moon catches the beast and throws it into the woods negligently. It goes with a low, raspy shriek like a goosed frog._

_This startles and upsets the traveler more than anything Ren has done or said yet, and most important, it distracts her; she reaches vehemently, almost as if she hoped to catch the flying cat. Two Rens become one Ren, and the traveler is between Ren and her moon._

_And Ren says, _Séighin nic Cormac, you are mine.

_And that is all. The traveler goes to her knees suddenly, jerkily, actually flinging her sword away behind her. Her clever mouth hangs open, its golden hinges jammed, its spring unwound._

_She is mine…_

* * *

The beast was violently angry. She was soaked in this nasty yet strangely familiar liquid, and her fur was all sticking together as her muscles bunched and reached with running. She wasn't as dizzy as she had been at first, when the liquid got into her nose and her throat, making her cough and sneeze, but she didn't seem to be thinking as well as usual. These were her woods – she had roamed them for years, the mistress of them – but this interloper seemed not to mind that. _I'm almost caught up to her,_ she thought. _There she dances – oh, very lightfooted, faster than any other human I've ever seen, but I'm still faster... almost... THERE..._

And there was a strange blobby liquid creature blocking the way. It stank like the very liquid that soaked the beast's fur.

The beast shrieked, and managed to do a quick sidestep to avoid running into that disorienting mess again, but at the cost of losing her footing and taking a tumble in the undergrowth.

She struggled to her feet again, _harf_ing with rage. She looked around. There the little vermin was. She had the lead again, but she just stood there between two trees, looking back at the beast. The blobby annoying liquid creature stood beside her.

It put its hands to the side of its oval head, waggled its fingers, and did a little dance. The girl looked at it, openmouthed.

The beast growled, and dashed forward.

The girl seemed startled and distraught, and actually looked like she was about to apologize to the beast for her companion's behavior, then seemed to remember where she was. With an odd squealing sound like a young gryphon, she dashed away again.

The beast was snarling and growling as she ran, picking up momentum once more, but in her heart she sang a song to the moon. She knew what was waiting for them up ahead, in the direction her quarry had chosen, and it couldn't have been better if the slip of a girl had allowed the beast to choose her direction for her. Any minute now –

Through the trees and into a small clearing, and the quarry was bayed. Here was a nearly sheer rock wall rising impenetrably up into darkness, merely one wall of a cul-de-sac you didn't so much as suspect until you were in it. There the girl was, her steps slowing as she doubtless gazed in consternation at the barrier ahead. _No way out but past ME_, the beast would have said if she could speak, and plowed forward, her huge paws barely touching the earth as she moved to claim her prize.

And her prize laid on more speed.

_Hopeless –_

And then her prize was hopelessly running up the nearly sheer rock wall.

The beast watched this eccentric ascent, astonished, but she was still running while she watched, and she realized only just in time that she had no time to be angry or even startled. A bone-crushing impact was a few paces away, and she couldn't slow down. She leapt, and tried to redirect her momentum up the wall. She actually made it up two lengths before hitting the wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of her – luckily no worse – and then fell back into an ignominious heap at the bottom.

Dizzy and aching, but at least whole, she looked up.

High above, her quarry launched herself backwards away from the wall. She soared a remarkable distance, arms and legs spread like a flying squirrel, and caught onto a tree branch. She swung on it nimbly, twisting herself in the air so that she landed on the branch, seeming almost to clutch it with her feet. Then she danced rapidly and nimbly from branch to branch, then from tree to tree, going back the way they had come. The beast's clever ears picked up the strange girl's frantic, quick, sobbing breaths.

Everything was tinted red. The beast heard ragged, thick, wet breathing in her ear, and knew it for her own. She was on her feet. She was dashing back toward the house, following this mad, impossible girl flying high above. The beast could climb trees, too. The beast could dance. The beast would catch the girl in the end.

* * *

Sei was just gazing at Shiori, unable to move or speak. It was more than three years since she'd seen her, but the girl hadn't changed a bit. She was still the loveliest living creature Sei had ever seen, still the face, and the voice, and the spirit that Sei had sought over thousands of miles of ocean, over great sheets of ice at the top of the world, under alien stars. Still all the peace and happiness Sei had ever known, there in that slender form, those lustrous brown eyes. Still the one mistress Sei would happily submit to. _Still hers, and still mine._ She reached out a hand to her.

"My darling," Shiori said. "Has it been hard, without me?"

Sei began to cry. How could Shiori ask that?

Shiori's beautiful moon was hovering next to Sei's head. It was singing to her, in three or four most harmonious voices, a song about sweet rain, and reunited lovers, and all the springs of the world renewed. Sei's tears became tears of joy.

"Love me," Shiori said, smiling sweetly, and Sei obeyed, had been obeying, would obey always. "Love me, and trust me one last time, sweet Sei. Joy shall be yours. Ours. Ours. I can end your pain, beloved." Sei was dazzled by the beauty, by the promise of peace and sweetness in those eyes.

She saw the curved blade coming toward her, and a voice cried out within, but most of her accepted this blade as part of the promise of joy she'd been made –

– and then little Katsuko was there, between them. There was a struggle going on. Sei didn't follow it very closely; she was mostly just annoyed that Katsuko was obscuring her view of Shiori. She did notice that Katsuko was limping, and appeared to be a bit beat up; there were scrapes on her hairless arms, and a jagged gash on one shoulder. And she saw the blade pierce Katsuko's side. Katsuko yowled, and slashed at Shiori with her claws. Shiori stepped away, almost dancing, laughing a sweet, happy laugh.

_Wait,_ Sei thought. _Wait. Shiori?_

Katsuko stood clutching at her wound. She, who had seemed so savage and inhuman when she attacked, suddenly had a human look on her face: pain, and worry, like a child sick to her stomach. Something about the look pierced Sei's fog… _she doesn't want to die, she doesn't want to lose the light._ Katsuko reached toward Sei, gave a plaintive cry, and then she fell, and landed in Sei's lap.

Shiori was moving in again, with that most beautiful of smiles, and that sharpest of knives, and Sei was frozen, holding a cold, bleeding cat-girl in her arms, staring at oncoming destruction –

But then there was a big, hairy wind that blew through, stinking of sake, and Shiori was hurled aside, squealing with fury. Even her moon was nudged hard enough to send it bouncing toward the trees, making it cut off its gorgeous song with a sort of confused _glommer-_ing noise. Out of the corner of one eye, Sei caught a brief glimpse she would remember and love for all of her life: Yumi, running so that her feet hardly touched the ground, her eyes bulging and her teeth clenched as she tried to outrun doom. Only a glimpse, and she was gone, with dust, some dead rotten leaves, and an enraged, rowling Yamiko-san hurtling in her wake. And in Yamiko-san's wake: dancing and prancing in long leaps in the rear, the sake-creature, with one arm upraised, as if calling upon the first- and second-place runners to slow down a bit and let it catch up.

Sei almost failed to take advantage of this reprieve. She still sat there in the dirt of the garden with a broken Katsuko in her arms and broken thoughts in her head.

One whole thought presented itself: _You almost died stupid,_ it told her.

That brought the sharpness back to her glamoured, glimmered mind. _Glimmer?_ There was a knife glimmering on the gravel in front of her. _Shiori's knife,_ she thought. _Ren's knife,_ she corrected herself. _HER knife,_ she corrected herself again, and reached, and she took it by the blade, and brought it up to her face, looking at it quizzically. _A cold, cold blade. No blade is this cold naturally, unless it's been sitting in snow..._ Oh, here was Shiori coming back. Shiori was so beautiful. Sei smiled at Shiori's cold, pale, angry face.

Sei held the knife up by its blade, waggling it a bit between her fingers.

"You dropped this," she told the beautiful Shiori.

She resisted a very brief temptation, swiveled her upper body, and threw the knife into the woods instead, as hard as she could, sort of in a westerly direction.

It whickered as it went between the trees. If it hit any of them, Sei didn't hear the impact.

Shiori, the un-Ren, the Ghost, looked at Sei. Her eyes bulged so much they almost became one big eye, and she flew off into the woods like a large albino bat, shrieking as she went, _yiiiiiii,_ in pursuit of her knife. Her moon followed her, making mad, hectic shadows of trees on trees between trees, and leaving a sound like a low, panicked moan behind it…

Sei laid Katsuko down before her on the gravel. It hurt her to do this to one of her favorite shirts, but she tore off both sleeves, and in moments had turned one of them into a pad, and the other into a bandage. She bound Katsuko's wound as well as she could.

"Satou-sama," Katsuko said in her small, rough voice, "there's no point – everything is getting far away – I'm going to be gone soon – Satou-sama, it _hurts_ –"

"Then hurt," Sei told her, finishing, "but don't die." She stared into Katsuko's eyes, and put a hand on the already reddening pad over the wound. She spoke a few words, under her breath, and saw Katsuko wince with pain. "You may not depart until I give you leave," Sei said.

Katsuko nodded. She kept looking at Sei, with her fixed yellow gaze.

Sei took her eyes away. She had to struggle a little to do it.

Sei left Katsuko there, near the broken water-harp. She looked around for another glimmer, her poor abandoned sword, and found it, wounding the earth behind her. She unsheathed it from the world. It scraped on the gravel.

She deliberately moved away, towards the rear of the front section of the shinden, near the shutters she had been looking out of earlier. She wondered who was watching now, and what they had made of all this. _"Is Satou-san demented?"_ That was probably what they were wondering. It was what Sei was wondering herself.

Away from the dirt and gravel of the garden. Tall grass was plentiful here, by the covered walkway leading to the back part of the shinden, where Fujiwara-dono and her charges were doubtless sleeping. She thought briefly about trying to wake Fujiwara-dono up, but no. No. Sei had started this. This was her ghost. She would finish it, and no one else. _Shiori,_ she thought. _The only Shiori I ever had, or ever will have._ She plucked some of the grass, pulling a bunch roughly, hurriedly, with shaking hands, and began twining seven of the long blades about her own blade. She had to calm herself. You can't weave with shaking hands. _Calm down. Control yourself._ "Once more," she breathed as she did so. "Once more. 'I am the foam on the wave. I am the beast in the water. I am the winding of the horn. I am the raven on the rock. I am the cat who hunts the raven. I am the word of knowledge. I am the speaker of the word.'" She was binding the grasses flush to the metal, tight enough to stay but not too tight. She caressed, teased them into place. "'I am the sound of the wind before.'" She was almost singing the words now. "'I am the world after the word is spoken. I am the sword in the knotted roots,'" she reminded herself as she tied off the ends. "'I am the broken spear under the hoof –'"

Crazy ghostlight dancing in the trees again. The Ghost returned with the light, at first only a shadow, then a half-illuminated phantasm, at last emerging into the garden, moving implacably toward Sei, knife in hand, blood on her lip – had she run into a tree branch in her flight? More likely she had bitten herself in her anger. She still had Shiori's face, but it had stretched and no longer fit well. Sei's whole body felt cold. She knew her face was pale. She found she was still afraid, but more than anything else, she was angry. She held onto the anger. _Shiori is dead._ She had known it for three years, without really being sure. Now there seemed no other answer. This Ghost had stolen Shiori's essence, and ensnared Sei with it. _Shiori's mistake was leaving the protection of the Guild, and she wouldn't have left if not for_ – Sei felt tears threatening to choke her, and fought them back. Now was not the time. There looked like only one possible way of breaking its magic, and she was not sure she was going to survive it, but what alternative was there, really?...

_Care'll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman,_ Sei thought.

The Ghost advanced on her. The blade of the Ghost's knife was glowing, and her moon was behind her head, making her look horribly like Lady Mary, with her halo, except Sei had never seen Lady Mary depicted with blood trickling down her chin.

_Now, I finish you,_ came the Ghost's thought into Sei's head.

Sei kept her gaze on the Ghost. She looked all her hatred and anger at the Ghost, who drank it up, fattened herself on it, made herself stronger. She preened a little, glorying in being the focus of attention. _As always._ Sei looked and looked, doing her best to empty herself of all of it. The Ghost's mouth opened wider and wider in an empty smile, as she bore down on Sei, knife ready, Sei's hatred at the tip –

Sei bent her legs as if she were collapsing, and then jumped, and pushed at the earth with everything she was, and went spinning into the air over the Ghost's head. She had a brief impression of the Ghost reaching, trying to catch her like she was something she'd thrown away by mistake, her mouth opening too wide and stretching into an impossible shape, trying to call the carelessness back before it was too late, but it already was: Sei was out of reach, out of recall, and out of time. She spun in the air, building all the momentum she could. Her eyes found the light again, and her hands followed them, and with a terrible shout that tore at her chest, a rebel yell that split the night, she drove her sword right into the heart of the killer moon.

The moon shattered. Sei's blade cracked like childhood's end. There was a fierce burst of blue light, and Sei was hurled back to earth in dying fire.

* * *

The author's mouth dropped open. His head went back in a silent scream, and his black eyes fell back into his skull with an audible click. Sachiko struck him down with sudden fire, and dashed past him, out the garden door, into the snow, and up, and out –

* * *

Fujiwara-dono sagged, suddenly, basalt giving way to flesh and bone and then vanishing improbably in a wisp of yellowish fog. Youko turned and made a mad dash for the plum tree, looking her joy at it, finding that joy worked quite as well as rage to make the tree grow, which only increased her joy, which only made the tree taller – and she was madly scrambling up the tree, up and out –

* * *

Momoko-san, weeping, turned away from the shutters and buried her face in Mizuki's chest. Mizuki kept a comforting arm about her. She had been wanting to go outside since Katsuko had fallen – Katsuko was her friend and comrade, and they had shared many moonlight rambles – had stolen their leather jerkins from soldiers on the same daring, hilarious late-night raid – but she had doubted her own ability to do anything but get herself killed as well, and anyway, something told her that in this situation, her place was with Momoko-san, unless Momoko-san gave her leave to go. She wasn't sure why that was, though.

"Momoko-san –" she began. "Satou-sama's not – is she? I couldn't tell. Should I go out there?"

Momoko-san was looking up at Mizuki now. She looked fierce, despite the tears. "I'm only a novice. I have no magic yet that's good enough. I wish I were strong, strong... Mizuki-chan, do you know any magic? Any magic at all? Is there nothing we can do…"

Momoko-san trailed off.

They both turned, slowly. They were both hearing the same sound.

People were waking up.

The other cat-women, who had spaced themselves out in a line between the sleepers and the garden door, went into low crouches and drew back, but there was no room to draw back. Some leapt up into the rafters. Mii-chan and Yuu-chan, the tail-lashing twins, stayed where they were, chasing each other's tails. Ami-sama, who had arranged the line, sighed and went to sit in the corner. She seemed annoyed.

A tall sorceress with long black hair, bedded down near the attic stairs, was the first to rise. She was looking around. She was obviously missing someone.

"Sachiko-sama," Momoko-san said. "Yumi-sama is…"

Sachiko-sama gasped, and stared at Momoko-san, and at Mizuki too. She looked at the others.

Then she just said, "Yumi!" and made a dash for the garden door.

Another one had risen, not far from the first. She seemed much less confused. She followed Sachiko-sama, without hesitation.

All around the room, sorceresses were waking up, looking around, and staring at one another. The room hummed with sleepy conversation, and crackled with incalculable energy.

* * *

Katsuko watched from her gravelly deathbed near the front of the garden as the moon came apart in glowing shards, the glow dying as the shards fell.

Three things happened at once:

The Ghost screamed, whether more in rage or pain, it was hard to tell. She was still reaching uselessly toward where her moon had been.

The sudden darkness lightened again, as the true moon came out from behind a cloud, and bathed them in ordinary, extraordinary, beautiful moonlight.

And a sweet, gentle rain, no more than a drizzle, began to fall, mingling with the tears on Katsuko's face.

She had one last, bitterly triumphant look at the Ghost gazing in horror at the ground – Katsuko couldn't see over the big stones around the koi pond, and could only guess at the mess. Katsuko closed her eyes. _Take me now,_ she said to Death. This sudden, bright pain was like a hot version of the knife that had killed her, setting up a burning within her against the cold. Satou-sama was dead. How could she still be alive, after that?... _I will follow her soon,_ Katsuko thought. _Perhaps I'll serve her better in the next world –_

"'I am the bed of the dying warrior,'" a familiar voice said, almost gently. "I am the blade before the forge.'"

Katsuko gasped, drawing back from Death's threshold. She opened her eyes, and looked again.

Satou-sama was slowly climbing to her feet. Her grey gaze pierced the Ghost's black one. She threw away the jagged bludgeon in her right hand, all that was left of her sword.

"Now," she said with a dark smile, "we are on more of an even footing."

The Ghost frantically waved her blade at Satou-sama's face. _I still have my knife –_

"What knife?" Satou-sama said. She slowly advanced on the Ghost.

The Ghost looked confused. She waggled the knife a little more.

Satou-sama took step. After. Step.

All thought of dying had left Katsuko's mind. She would see the rest of this fight. She would fight Death tooth and nail for that, if she had to –

The garden door slid and slapped open, and two women, sorceresses Katsuko supposed, came out. The Ghost looked back and forth from Satou-sama to the newcomers. Her eyes rolled like those of a trapped animal. But the newcomers, without so much as a pause, turned and dashed southeast up the mountain, past the shinden's annex. The same direction Yumi-san and Mistress had gone, if Katsuko remembered aright. The one in the lead was tallish, with long black hair, and by the way she carried herself and the look on her face, she was no one to play with.

The Ghost had seemed momentarily nonplussed at the abrupt departure. Then she smiled wickedly at Satou-sama. _They don't seem to be very concerned about you._

"Sachiko's first priority is Yumi," Satou-sama said, with a happy grin. "That's good. I can stop worrying about Yumi, and lavish all my affection on you."

The Ghost frowned.

Then another girl appeared in the open doorway, a smaller girl with light-colored hair. "Mistress?" She was still rubbing her eyes.

Satou-sama pointed at Katsuko, keeping her gaze on her adversary. "Shimako, help Katsuko. Quickly."

The small, light-haired one ran to Katsuko immediately.

* * *

Treed and exhausted, Yumi felt she'd made a mess of things.

Today's flight from certain death had been both easier and harder than the last one. She _was_ more in her element in the trees than on the streets; she had been right about that. The trouble was that Yamiko-sama was _also_ in her element, and on her home turf as well. There were more places to hide, without fear of endangering anyone, but Yamiko-sama knew them all, or could guess. Also, Yamiko-sama was much faster than the demon had been, and cleverer. Yumi had been able to stay ahead of her, but only just. She suspected that, if she hadn't handicapped her opponent with a sake-bomb first thing, it would have been one of the shortest contests in the history of the world.

She had been surprised to find that, in a tight squeeze, she could run up a sheer wall. She felt sure that this was a skill that would come in useful in future contests, if she lived to see any of them. It hadn't even required any conscious magical exertion on her part; she simply stood back – er,in a figurative sense, of course – and let her "magic feets" do the work. But she had found, to her dismay, that running up a sheer wall was – funny thing – exhausting. She found, fleeing back through the trees, that it had taken something frightening out of her. She found that the clearing where the house stood was in front of her far sooner than she'd expected, and though she might have been able to skirt it and still stay aloft under other circumstances, it would require some back-tracking, and a quick backward glance told her that back-tracking was a bad idea: Yamiko-sama had taken to the lower branches of the deciduous trees, leaping from one to the next with that implausible, liquid agility she had shown in her human form, negotiating the attic ladder with a big barrel of sake under one arm. There was a limit, Yumi felt sure, to how high Yamiko-sama could go – the upper branches certainly wouldn't bear the weight of such a monstrous huge cat – but she couldn't feel at _all_ sure of where the limit was – Yamiko-sama was such an… unprecedented creature, and such a determined one.

All this makes Yumi sound far clearer-headed than she actually felt at the time. She had leapt down, and heard and felt a greater mass by far touch earth behind her at almost the same moment she did, and she knew that Yamiko-sama was there, and she ran like mad. She passed human figures in the garden, but they were a blur, and she had to be careful of her footing what with the water harp and the koi pond and the silent fountain and all. She prayed fervently as she ran that she hadn't ruined things for Sei-sama.

But she hadn't managed to get much farther after that. She'd thought about risking the remembering-place but that was dangerous in the woods; she couldn't control where she came out of it, and she might end up partway through a tree. This wasn't usually fatal, but it was always humiliating, and you had to wait for someone to come along and get you out.

In the end, she had shinned up this big koda tree and shot as far into the upper branches as she dared, where she lay now, clinging to a branch, panting from her exertions, and watching Yamiko-sama in the lower branches. Yamiko-sama's back paws were braced on the bottommost bough. She was stretching herself terribly long and testing the upper reaches of the tree, trying to find a branch or combination of branches that would support her. She was no longer shrieking, yowling, or even snarling. Her mouth was hanging open, her fangs glinting wetly. She was looking intently at Yumi and Yumi couldn't imagine any possible human thought behind that face, which failure had cut short any impulse to plead for her life. That was a face that would eat her, blot out her existence and with it the annoyance and inconvenience she had caused, and never give her another thought ever after, an empty, open-mouthed, yet focused terrible splendour of teeth and whiskers and cold, round eyes… There were no passageways here, or anything that could substitute for passageways, and so no middle way. Her feet couldn't remember the earth because they weren't touching it. Were there any other tricks hiding in her stupid, confusing head?... Now was certainly the time to remember them… Nothing was coming – Yamiko-sama was gingerly hauling herself up to a choice perch she seemed to think she had found. Yumi doubted Yamiko-sama would be able to find a similar perch on Yumi's own level, but she might not _need_ to; Yumi had seen how the creature could stretch… Yumi braced herself. She knew the sake-creature was nearby, awaiting her word. She'd try a leap into the next tree. Maybe she could scuttle to the ground fast, and then the sake-creature could give Yamiko-sama another nice surprise as she tried to close… otherwise, well, Yumi was exhausted, frankly, and Yamiko-sama was apparently a long way from exhaustion, as well as coldly furious, and Yumi was pretty sure she wouldn't make it to the ground, unless –

"Yamiko."

A voice from the base of the tree. A voice Yumi knew, a voice she would know anywhere.

And as the voice finished speaking the name, the terrible cat shuddered, dwindled, and fell.

"Aaaaah!" cried another voice, and Yumi heard running feet.

She started to shin down. She was being carefully deliberate about her descent – it would be stupid to survive all that and then break her neck falling out of the tree – but she was trembling with her eagerness to be on the ground.

Her hands gripped the bottommost bough, she swung down, and her feet had touched. She took in with her impatient gaze Ayanokouji-kun cradling the unconscious, blessedly human-shaped Yamiko-sama – Ayanakouji-kun looked tiny holding her, like a child cradling her mother – but there was only one person Yumi was really looking for, and there she was, running to Yumi, her face gentle and happy in the moonlight, and Yumi ran to her, launching herself into her trembling, welcoming arms, and oh, everything was right again, everything… She felt Sachiko-sama's kiss on her forehead, and nothing else in the world mattered, for these few moments –

There was a rough, gasping cry behind her, like a bark. Yumi turned her head to look but leaving Sachiko-sama's arms was not an option; Yumi didn't want to, and Sachiko-sama plainly wouldn't allow it. _Has she been fighting to reach me?_... Yamiko-sama was sitting up. The moon, the real moon now, was reflected in her eyes, which were still the eyes of the monster cat, searching, finding Yumi, fixing on her emptily, hungrily. Her hands, almost claws, reached for Yumi. Ayanokouji-kun gripped Yamiko-sama's wrists desperately – she would obviously be borne down by Yamiko-sama's size and inhuman strength in another moment – except she said firmly into the empty face, "Yamiko-sama – Ren-sama is _dead_."

And the eyes were human, and wounded, and staring at this slip of a girl who was comically trying to hold her back from her prey. "Why, what would _you_ know about it, girl? –"

"I dreamed it," said Ayanokouji-kun. "The whole thing."

Yamiko-sama went on staring at Ayanokouji-kun. "You _dreamed_ –"

"You came back from hunting. You felt better than you'd felt in days. And you found Ren-sama lying ill on her pallet. She was too far gone to speak. You realized she was dying. You'd been wrapped up in yourself, gloomy, thinking about the past, no thought for the present, and she'd been sick and dying, and you hadn't known." Ayanokouji-kun's voice was a bit wobbly now. "You used all the magic you knew, but none of it helped. She died a little while later. You thought maybe she was aware that you were holding her, you thought maybe she squeezed your hand once, but you couldn't be sure. And then she was gone."

Yamiko-sama was crying now, and her head would move to one side – stop – move to the other – stop – "Don't –"

Ayanokouji-kun was crying too. "This ghost came to you several nights later, when you were half-asleep. You didn't understand – she didn't really explain – but you seized on this. Oh yes, of course, you thought, it was all a stupid dream. She's not really dead after all. But, Yamiko-sama, she _is_."

Ayanokouji-kun looked down, then looked up again. Yamiko-sama continued to stare at her, tears running down her empty face.

"And killing Yumi-san will not bring her back."

Leaves rustled in the breeze. A night bird cried out.

"What have I done?..." Yamiko-sama stood. She reached down, apparently without thinking about it, to help Ayanokouji-kun to her feet. She looked at Yumi, and at Sachiko-sama, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, so sorry…"

"It's all right, Yamiko-sama," Sachiko-sama said coolly. "As long as you're yourself again. But this isn't over yet. The imposter is still back there – and Sei-san is trying to deal with her –"

And, before Yumi knew it, they were all running back to the house.

* * *

_Ren has never felt such hatred for anything as for this scarred, wicked, grinning face moving toward her, her golden-haired enemy. She doesn't think more hatred than this is possible; this hatred takes her through red rage and sick green loathing and out into a blue wintry silence where she thinks she need only reach down into snow and pull death into her fists, pack it tight, and hurl it at her enemy's heart –_

_"I know you," says her enemy._

_And her hatred _doubles_, her old hatred of discarded lovers, of a past that could follow her, and wouldn't stay dead. _You can't!_ she thinks into her enemy's head. _Impossible! I was never there!_ She makes a wild slash at her enemy with the knife, and yelps as this horrible, horrible person catches her wrist with one hand and taps her elbow sharply with the other, making her drop her knife. Quick as a wink, the enemy's foot is over the blade, her grey eyes boring into Ren's. Ren backs away quickly, rubbing her arm._

_"None of that, now," says the enemy, still with that grin. Advancing. Arm's length again –_

_Ren thinks, I have a friend in my hood._

_And she thinks at her snake, Strike, and strike clean!_

_And, lunging from the hood of her cloak, the viper _strikes_ –_

I HATE YOU!_ Ren screams, at the same moment –_

_But before the _YOU_ is even out of her mouth, she sees her viper dying a clacking-fanged, rolling-eyed death in her enemy's fist._

_"Do you?" says her enemy, casually, holding the ghost's eyes in a gentle, smiling gaze, for all the world as if she weren't strangling a viper. "Well, I don't hate _you_. I don't hate wasps or spiders, either. Sometimes they have to be killed, that's all. You can't go out and hunt them all down – life isn't long enough, not even Yamiko-san's – but you can't share a tent with them either. A practical matter, you see." She flings the limp snake aside, and then her hand is on Ren's arm. Gripping it._

_Ren struggles, twisting her arm, trying to get free of the enemy's grasp. Her hate is like a living thing, made cringing and hopeless by her enemy's declaration – _I hate you! Why, O why don't you hate me? How have I failed you?_ – She raises her free hand, begins to conjure with it –_

_– but that hand is caught and twisted toward earth again by another strong grip. Ren swivels her head, her sanity stretched to the snapping point, and beholds a determined, pale, even face, with black hair cut above the shoulders._

You!_ Ren shrieks._

* * *

"What a pleasure to see you again," said Mizuno Youko. With a very small smile.

* * *

Yamiko burst in upon the garden, to see Ren being held fast, Satou-san on one arm and Mizuno-san on the other. Her drinking companions of the previous evening.

The ghost swiveled her head to look at her, and it was _Ren_. It _was_ Ren. She glared at Yamiko. _Where have you been!_ she howled. _Kill them! Now!_

Running back to the house, Yamiko had felt calm and crisp and strong. Stepping back into her own garden, the nimbus of the Ghost's influence oppressed her again like a heat wave. Yamiko felt herself ebbing, felt her powers being turned firmly away from her own disposition of them and moving again into someone else's. _Change,_ the river of energy was urging her. _Change, and attack._

She staggered. She couldn't move. It was suddenly all she could do to stand on two feet; the urge to drop down onto four was as pitiless and imperious as an ocean wave.

_I'm all you have,_ the river said to her. _The choice is a simple one: obedience, or loneliness, probably for the rest of your life. One simple chore to be done, and they're done, and we're happy again. Only obey. Obey, and save me._

And obedience was really all Yamiko had left.

Except… Kikuyo-chan's hand was on her arm.

Not pulling, or pushing. Only gently resting there. And the girl was looking at her with complete trust and confidence.

Sweet girl. Silly girl. No, not silly. Complicated. She'd been silly with wine last night, but now she was serious. She had dreamed Yamiko's reality somehow –

_No. It wasn't real._

It was, though.

_I'm still here!_

Yamiko straightened up.

She took Kikuyo-chan's hand off her arm. As she did so, she squeezed it gently, and gave the girl the closest thing she could manage to a smile.

She stepped forward.

The trio had frozen.

Mizuno-san said, "Sei –"

Satou-san said, "Wait, Youko."

They were waiting for Yamiko. They looked at her expectantly. The Ghost was still too, but then made a massive effort to shake them off. They held firm, like steel, almost as if more than their own strength might be keeping their grips strong.

_Please!_ The ghost thought into Yamiko's head, pleading with Ren's voice, Ren's face, Ren's tears. _Please help me! I love you!_

Yamiko shook her head. Her breath was coming short. But she spoke:

"You are not Ren."

_I am all of Ren you will ever have!_

"Ren is dead. You killed her, and absorbed her essence, which is why you seem so like her – why there actually seems to be something of her here, in the garden with me. What you have of her is truly her, and all that is left of her. But it doesn't belong to her anymore. It is… stolen property… and you neglected to absorb her principles along with it. Ren would never have asked me to murder guests, whatever the provocation. Would have been horrified at the mere suggestion. Would sooner have died herself.

"If I do as you say, I will be unworthy of Ren's love, forever." Yamiko felt the beast coming back, as she thought about this, and heard the hissing and the snarling under her voice. _Can the others hear it?_ "And that is a sacrifice I will not make. Not even for Ren's love."

The Ghost looked at Yamiko in confusion and horror and pain. _Ren's pain. I am hurting Ren, or all that remains of Ren._ Yamiko shook her head again, and tears fell. She ignored them.

"I revoke my invitation," she said, harshly. "You are no longer welcome. Get out of my house!"

There was a moment when everything seemed quite still, and then a scream split the night and the Ghost _changed_, like that, her Ren-shape altogether gone – _O goodbye, my love, goodbye_ – her black eyes now burning red, and the rest of her entirely tangled silver hair and ice-blue face, screaming and squirming, trying to get free, but she was in the grip of two powerful sorceresses, who had her by either hand.

And Satou-san spoke, words that seemed to soften sound and slow motion, as if all of nature had paused to listen:

"Whose is the name roared by the stones?  
Who is the dancer whose steps wake the earth?  
Who will speak beginning at the end of all things?"

The Ghost's scream rose in pitch until it was inaudible. The blue of her skin turned to grey, and shriveled.

Satou-san and Mizuno-san were falling back from each other, catching their balance. There was nothing on the grass between them besides a tattered grey robe, and some shiny bones, clattering, thudding, bouncing briefly, then lying still.

* * *

And that was the last anyone saw of the Blood-Drinking Ghost of Hieizan.

* * *

Or was it?

* * *

"Sachiko-sama," came a faint voice. "Please help me…"

Sachiko started, and dashed around the little group to where Shimako was kneeling over a supine figure. One of those cat-people Youko had seen earlier.

Youko looked down again at the bones, all that was left of a creature she had remembered and feared for three years now, feared more on Sei's account than her own. _If it comes back, one of them is going to have to die,_ she had often reflected. _All Nihon isn't big enough for the two of them._ Now the meeting had finally happened, and Sei and Youko had both survived it. A burden had been lifted.

Youko looked up at Sei. "Well. Good morning," she said. It was difficult to know where to begin.

Sei turned and ran.

The unflappable Youko was momentarily flapped. She stood slightly open-mouthed, watching her friend as she ran over to where Sachiko was kneeling, hovering over her as she worked.

_Sei cuts through these difficulties with such ease,_ she thought.

Youko looked down, and cast an appraising eye over the bones on the grass. She took out a large handkerchief. Wrapping it around her hand, she reached down and selected the jawbone of the ghost.

It turned in her hand, its pointy teeth trying to bite her.

Swallowing her revulsion, Youko firmly wrapped the twisting jawbone in the handkerchief, told it "Mind me, now," and stuffed it inside her robe. There was no further movement from it.

Then she went after Sei.

The garden door was open, and faces were peering out. There were many sleepy, confused voices, asking for explanations. There was a shortage of explanations, however. Even Yamiko-sama had none, and she _lived_ here. Youko had never met Yamiko-sama before last night, and she had trouble interpreting Yamiko-san's haggard expressionlessness. Was she embarrassed, humiliated? She would certainly be grieving for poor Ren-san double, as if Ren-san had died twice, and her shame at having been taken in, having endangered her guests, must be terrible. But when she finally opened her mouth to speak, the plaintive question that emerged was "Where did all the bloody cat-girls come from?"

"They live with you," Yumi explained excitedly. "But they only become human – well, human-like – when you become a cat, and they stay human till morning, but you usually only become a cat when you're going out to hunt, and they either stay in the house, or they're just careful to stay away from you, because I don't know if you realize this, but you're a bit scary when you've transformed." Yumi seemed to realize she was talking too much, and stopped, and put a hand over her mouth. She looked down.

There was a pause.

"I _see_," Yamiko-sama said at last, with a very faint smile. "But what happened to this one?" she added, indicating the supine cat-girl Sachiko was now ministering to. Shimako was sitting next to her, apparently exhausted.

"She took a knife-blow meant for me," Sei said, kneeling at the cat-girl's other side, across from Sachiko. "Sachiko, I don't like to rush you –"

"How are your energies?" Sachiko asked, in a clipped way.

Sei was clearly not offended; she knew Sachiko had a tendency to speak that way when she was preoccupied. "Not at the highest, but I think I could manage one more greater action –"

"Your hand, Sei-san," Sachiko said, reaching. She looked tired. "I only need a little more."

Sei gave Sachiko her hand immediately.

Minamoto Momoko-chan stood nearby with another cat-girl, a tallish one. "Is she going to be all right?" the cat-girl asked worriedly.

"Wait, Mizuki-chan –" Momoko-chan said.

The freezing tempest  
Having rent the rice fields,  
A warm rain soothes them.

"Warmth is the problem," Sachiko went on, as if the poem had been ordinary conversation. "If she makes it till morning, she'll be all right. But feel her hand."

Sei did. "Like ice," she said wonderingly. "I wouldn't have thought a person that cold could still be..."

Sachiko nodded. "She must be kept absolutely warm and absolutely quiet." She looked around, at sleepy sorceresses and wondering cat-girls, and the general susurrus of conversation softened and stilled.

Youko smiled. "That's my girl," she murmured.

* * *

Katsuko was looking at Sei, who hadn't taken her hand away from Katsuko's yet.

Sei nodded, smiling back at her. "Leave it to me," she said.

With help from Sachiko, she lifted Katsuko in her arms. She carried her inside, past all the people looking on, to her own open bedroll. She laid Katsuko down on top of it, lay down next to her, and folded them both inside it.

"Satou-sama?" Katsuko said, in a softer voice than Sei had heard her use yet. Her eyes glowed huge in the dim light.

"Hush." Sei put her arms around Katsuko. It was like snuggling up to a block of ice, but Sei had once lived through a sojourn in a very cold place indeed, and she had both a sun and a moon inside her somewhere, and she simply called warmth out of herself, until it spread all through the bedroll, and the cold from Katsuko became less and less. Katsuko sighed. "Hush," Sei said again, pulling her closer. "Sleep. Sleep, and dream of basking in the sun."

"I am," was the slurred reply.

* * *

"Well, this is a to-do and no mistake," said Fujiwara-dono.

Youko managed not to jump. She was used to Fujiwara-dono turning up where and how she pleased, without reference to other people's notions of plausibility. She turned to face the Fujiweird. "A to-do, yes."

Fujiwara-dono smiled happily down at Youko. "You and Satou-san did a splendid job of vanquishing the creature, I must say."

"I think – that Sei must have done most of the work," Youko said. "We were under an enchanted sleep. Sei almost woke me, but I went back under – only I wasn't really asleep. It was like a dream, but –"

"I, also," Sachiko said unexpectedly. She stood with an arm around her Yumi, who leaned against her. Yumi's eyelids were drooping a little now. "Yumi was calling to me, and I was trying to answer, and I knew I was dreaming a kind of reality, but I couldn't waken from the false to the true." Sachiko glowered. "A most potent spell."

"Between them, Yumi-kun and Satou-san sorted things," Fujiwara-dono said. "It was touch-and-go there, for a bit – I wouldn't have said taunting Yamiko-san in her beast-form would be a wise move, but you did an excellent job of evading her grasp, young Yumi."

There was a pause. Yumi's eyes were wide open now; she was staring at Fujiwara-dono in wonder.

"How long have you been awake, Fujiwara-dono?" Youko asked, very calmly.

"Oh, quite some time now," Fujiwara-dono answered. "I would have intervened, had it looked like anyone needed it – almost did – but didn't, in the end. I will have to have a talk with Satou-san in the morning."

Youko was feeling distinctly ill-used – she wondered what Sei would think of this. She knew that Fujiwara-dono liked to let them handle things as much as possible, but this was absolutely –

"And with you, of course," Fujiwara-dono said, and Youko froze.

"With me?..."

"Yes. You and Satou-san had met that creature before, had you not, Mizuno-san?"

"Well... yes."

"And never saw fit to mention it to me?"

"Well... no."

Fujiwara-dono's eyes were very sharp on Youko's face. Youko stood tall, and met her gaze. It was the best way, she'd found.

"I won't chide you," Fujiwara-dono said, after another pause. "But I'll want to hear the whole story. Tomorrow," she repeated. "Yumi looks like she needs a little more sleep. I worry about her stamina."

Sachiko shook Yumi's shoulders gently once. "Yumi, shall we?"

"Just a moment, Mistress," Yumi said, rousing dutifully. She held out a hand.

Sorceresses stood fascinated, and cat-girls kept their distance, on their guards, hissing slightly, as Yumi's sake-creature sloshed toward her obediently. "Let's put you to bed in the kitchen," Yumi told it, in a sleepy voice. "Under the spigot of the cask. It would be a shame to waste good sake."

They walked and sloshed inside.

"What a considerate girl!" Fujiwara-dono said.

Smiling, Sachiko followed her imouto.

* * *

In the morning, Sei woke to find a warm, rather adorable calico cat lying curled against her chest, purring in its semidoze. She smiled, and kissed its head, and its ears twitched, and it purred louder.

"You dashed away awfully quickly last night," said a well-known voice.

Sei looked up from the calico surprise on her pillow to meet the eyes of her annoying, invaluable friend. "Nothing personal, my old fish."

Youko was kneeling by Sei's bedroll. She was not yet dressed for travel; she had apparently just risen herself. Around them, most of the party seemed to be still only stirring, not yet waking. Sei felt a warmth at her back, and realized that Shimako, though in her own bedroll, had snuggled up against her back in the night.

"She was probably feeling a bit neglected," Youko commented.

Sei could hear nothing worse than mild reproach in Youko's voice. But that meant nothing; Youko was awfully good at concealing. _Too good for her own good, maybe; at times I think she even manages to hide herself from herself._ "I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for my new young friend here." She put a hand on Katsuko's flank, and felt her pleased rumbling. "People have died for me ere this. I don't want it happening again if I can help it."

"I understand that." Youko tickled Katsuko between the ears. Katsuko stretched her neck a bit, purring even louder. "Though when you said that sometimes a girl has an obligation not to let people sleep alone, I assume you didn't mean this."

Sei smiled.

Youko hesitated, then said, "About Shiori –"

Sei sighed. "What about Shiori?"

"Well… if the Ghost, or whatever it really was, killed Ren, and became Ren –"

"I know."

Youko nodded. "You know."

"What else is there to say?" Sei was feeling the stirrings of anger. "We were pretty sure she was dead anyway, weren't we? She told you she was going to Yogawa. She never arrived; the head monk told us so. Remember?"

Youko had looked away. She was looking at Katsuko. It was easier to look at a cat, at such a time. Sei was in agreement with that. "I'm sorry, Sei…" Youko said miserably.

Sei shook her head, and touched Youko's hand. "Thank you, Youko."

Youko didn't say anything.

"Truly. Thank you for last time, and thank you for last night. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for last time."

Youko sighed a bit. "You saved my life then, too."

"After you'd got done putting it on the line for me. And I'd been a complete bitch to you, before. How do I apologize, how do I say thank you? –"

"You don't. I'll think you're going soft." Youko paused a moment, still only looking at the drowsy Katsuko. "Just don't leave, Sei. Don't leave the Guild. Stay with me – with us."

Sei went back to petting Katsuko. They were both petting Katsuko, and not looking at each other. Katsuko stretched her whole body and almost rowled with joy. She was warm and comfy, and two people were paying attention to her at the same time, and it was simply a perfect morning. "Oh, you know me, my Mizuno," Sei said, carefully flirtatious. "I'm a sorceress of the Guild now, like you, but I've never forgot my roots, and there's more than a suspicion of hedge wizard in my nature. I need freedom, but it's equally true to say I go where I'm sent. Any moment, I'll have moved along the hedge and disappeared behind the first cloud I see –"

"I know. I told you, I know. But if I have any say, it's for you to stay."

"I know. I told you," said Sei. "I may."

Youko made a disgusted little noise, and they went on petting Katsuko, who suddenly attacked them both, in the playfully non-injurious way of a domesticated cat, made a mad dash up the attic ladder, and disappeared behind the first roof-beam she saw.

* * *

Yamiko-san wasn't moving or speaking.

Fujiwara Akiko found this one-sided conversation to be difficult going. Everything she and Satou-san had said had been ignored.

Satou-san tried once more. "How could you have seen something like this coming, Yamiko-san?... You were confused, grieving. The thing moved in on you. She did the same to me. That seems to be how she operated. She wanted love, but didn't know how to spark it, make it grow from a seedling; all she could do was take a love that had already sprouted, and re-pot it to her own garden. Create weakness, and then use the weakness –"

Yamiko-san spoke at last: "I put you all in danger."

_You didn't put_ me _in danger_, Akiko very nearly replied, but decided that wouldn't be helpful.

She and Satou-san looked at each other. They were in a fix. Akiko didn't want to leave Yamiko-san all alone to cope with a grief and shame of this size. But the expedition was forming up outside, and they were going to have to leave soon. Duty was overriding friendship, as it too often had –

Then someone was climbing the ladder. In a moment, Ayanokouji Kikuyo-kun's head appeared over the lip of the half-attic.

"Good morning, young blot," Satou-san said pleasantly.

"Good morning," Ayanokouji-kun said shortly. She was still climbing.

Akiko was pleasantly surprised – she was so seldom surprised by anyone or anything, and this was the first really remarkable thing Ayanokouji-kun had ever done, as far as she knew – but she was also faintly annoyed. "Ayanokouji-kun, perhaps it would be better if you waited outside. I'll only be a few more minutes."

Standing now by the ladder, Ayanokouji-kun bowed deeply. "I beg your pardon, Fujiwara-dono. I wish to make my farewell to Yamiko-sama."

Akiko thought a moment, and then gave a curt nod. She waited.

Ayanokouji-kun went and knelt at Yamiko-san's back.

"Yamiko-sama, for all my companions, I thank you, for shelter, warmth, and hospitality. We are grateful."

Yamiko-san's shoulders only hunched more.

Ayanokouji-kun's hands worked a bit in her lap. "And for myself, I thank you – for teaching me that I need to be stronger. I have my troubles – they have seemed almost too heavy for me to bear lately – but you have taught me that my troubles – are light, really. I can bear them. I can be – a better self. Whether I'll succeed, I don't know. But I look forward to trying. I would be proud if... if I could bear my troubles with even a fraction of the strength you showed us all last night."

Yamiko-san said nothing. But her back no longer had that don't-talk-to-me look.

"You look now... the way I _felt_ yesterday, Yamiko-sama. Except you have much better cause. But I feel sure that you will find the strength to defeat even this sorrow. I feel sure that no trouble or pain can hold you down for long."

Then – another surprise for Akiko – Ayanokouji-kun leaned forward, put a hand on Yamiko-san's shoulder, and kissed her shaggy head, just above the ear.

Then she said, "I would like to come and see you again, if I may."

And she stood, and walked back to the ladder. With wonder, Akiko watched her, and saw tears in her averted eyes.

When the girl had disappeared down the ladder, Akiko looked at Satou-san, who was still looking at the ladder with an enigmatic smile on her face. Then Akiko looked back at Yamiko-san and found her still faced away but sitting up, her forearms resting on her knees, her head slowly shaking from side to side.

"Yes," Akiko said. "I think that's more or less what I was trying to say. I couldn't have said it with Ayanokouji-kun's moral force, of course."

Yamiko-san chuckled.

Very dry. But an indubitable chuckle.

* * *

On the porch, Momoko was sitting with a familiar-looking strong, glossy black cat in her lap. Momoko was crying, and the cat was comforting her, purring, kissing, clowning for her a bit. Momoko stroked the cat. Occasionally she would just stop and hug the cat to herself. The cat would endure this for a bit, and then start nipping playfully and tumbling again, making Momoko giggle through her tears. Her friends Madoka and Yuko stood nearby, shuffling from foot to foot and whispering to one another. There was something about this situation they plainly found a bit unorthodox, but Momoko was their friend, and they were waiting, patiently, for an explanation. Momoko's mistress sat nearby with her arms folded, staring straight at nothing.

Nearby, the Mountain Lily Gang and affiliates stood together, comparing notes, catching up. Rei-sama, Eriko-sama, Noriko-san, Touko-san and Rikki-san had all managed to sleep through just about everything, and they had been a bit annoyed, their annoyance only fading as they were brought up to date.

"One thing I'm wondering about," Sei-sama said. "You told us, Yumi, that you frightened Katsuko off, when you were escaping from Sachiko's bedroll. She doesn't strike me as the sort who's easily scared. What did you do?"

"Well, I sort of..." Yumi was worried. Should she try to recreate that moment? What if she scared everybody? What if she made Sachiko-sama angry?...

"Well, after that pause, you have to tell us," Eriko-sama said. "What did you do, Yumi-chan?"

"Er..."

"Yumi?" Mizuno-sama said, in a gentle but insistent voice.

They were all looking at her expectantly, even leaning toward her a little.

Yumi hesitated only another moment, then put up her paws, made claws of them, and said "_Hisssss!_"

It was, indeed, a nasty shock for everybody. Rei-sama nearly fell down. Noriko-san, holding Rei-sama's arm, had better control, but there was a dazed grin on her face. Touko-san and Rikki-san simply stared at Yumi, the former thunderstruck, almost angry, and the latter just bewildered. Mizuno-sama and Eriko-sama, for their part, had lost all composure; they leaned on one another, helpless with laughter.

"Cute!" Eriko-sama gasped. "Yumi-chan, you're cute!"

"I nearly wet myself," Sei-sama complained. "Please give fair warning before you do something like that, O scourge of cats." She was grinning as she said it, though.

Yumi was confused, and a bit annoyed. Was it scarier if you weren't expecting it? She turned to Sachiko-sama, and found her with a hand over her mouth, and an arm wrapped around her midsection, as if she were trying to suppress her laughter, or imprison it.

"Mistress, not you too!"

Kikuyo stepped off the porch, smiling wanly at Momoko and her furry friend as she passed them. She spotted a familiar figure down by the boulder. She hesitated, but then strolled down to meet her.

Bunko-sama seemed to be contemplating something inside of her, but she looked up as her soror mystica approached. "Hello, my stranger."

"Good morning, Mistress," Kikuyo said. She stood submissive, waiting for a rebuke.

But then, Mistress's hand was on her shoulder. "Don't stand there looking like I'm about to hit you," she said. "You make me feel a complete monster."

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I am... sorry. About everything."

A faint smile. "I'm not angry, Kikuyo. I was more concerned than anything. Something's been troubling you, and you haven't been talking about it."

"I will tell you, Mistress. Just..." Kikuyo didn't know how to ask.

"You need more time?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, we have that, haven't we?" Mistress offered a hand.

Kikuyo took it, feeling very unworthy.

* * *

At last, Fujiwara Akiko appeared on the porch.

Everyone was formed up, waiting for her. Looking at her.

She said to them, "Do you see? All we did was stop for the night at a friend's house. Anything can happen, my little sponges, absolutely anything."

"Will there be another drill today, Fujiwara-dono?" said one voice.

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?"

There were general sounds of disappointment, discouragement, and disunion as Fujiwara-dono stepped off the porch. "But Fujiwara-dono –" "We had a drill yesterday, and then the blood-drinking ghost last night –" Can't we have a little break?"

"It doesn't work that way," she said loudly, but patiently, walking down the mountain in the morning light. "Demons, monsters and blood-drinking ghosts don't care how tired you are, or when your last drill was. And a drill isn't really a drill if you know when it's coming, is it?" There were clever ripostes to this, and not-so-clever ripostes, and a gentle hum of conversation as the sorceresses moved on down the mountain, away at last from their home ground, conifers giving way to leafy trees as the land began to level off below them, as they moved on toward the shores of Lake Biwa, and away into the wilderness...

(...to be continued...)


	14. Interchapter -- Tsujimoto at the Bridge

Well, I couldn't very well let another Christmas go by without an update.

This isn't really an update, though. It's too short to qualify, in my book. It's another interchapter – it didn't fit in the real chapter, but it's necessary plot stuff. None of the Guild are in it, though, and Tsujimoto is the only character you will recognize. Probably a disappointment. I know no-one's been waiting two and a half years to find out what _that_ no-good is up to... Whether anyone _is_ still waiting is a question we will learn the answer to soon, I fancy, but I'll continue to post this even if it gets no feedback. Just for the sake of finishing it, because I'm tired of it not being finished. I reckon we're about halfway through the whole thing, and I am very against there being any more long delays like this last one, necessary as it was. Goodness knows I've done enough research by now.

If you _are_ curious about what the Mountain Lily Gang have been up to, just hang tight and wait for the real update, which should be posted before the Twelve Days of Christmas have passed. I am currently engaged in a staring contest with it, but I feel sure that I shall be victorious soon.

In the meantime, this.

* * *

Interchapter – Tsujimoto at the Bridge

"I saw you so briefly. I fear that I have made a mess of things between us, a terrible mess. You are one of my most valued friends. We may never meet again in this world, but if there is any opportunity to make it up to you for what I have done, I shall surely take advantage of it.

"As the waters run,  
In the canals of Heian Kyo,  
Tears run down my sleeve.  
Can it be that your own sleeve  
is dry and blameless in its turn?"

Tsujimoto no Fujito set his brush aside and looked at what he had written. The paper was well chosen, he thought. Suguru would know how to appreciate the coarse-woven lavender fibres which took the ink so well. If only the much finer weave of Suguru's mind could take the sentiments Tsujimoto had tried to express with this ink and fibre...

He felt weary, at the end of everything. Five days from the Capital. Most of the journey still to go, and only the nightmare of Kyushu at the end of it. And assistant to the assistant viceroy – hardly a flattering post. Yet Tsujimoto felt sure that Suguru had saved him from a worse fate – some abandoned islet – or perhaps even death –

But was any fate worse than exile from the Capital?

He wasn't sure anymore. He'd been back in the Capital for months, but unable to return to his home, his possessions. Someone else was living in his home now, a cousin of his, and he didn't know what had happened to the things he'd had to leave behind – his books, his clothes – and his servants were all serving other people now. As for his married life, well, the less said the better. Even if he'd been able to get his home back, he knew, nothing would ever have been the same again.

How uncertain life was!

Once again, he was musing on the fragility of existence, and nature was not being cooperative. The night was a dank one, and this poor house where he sat, with its tatty, out-of-date hangings and rickety old brazier, was shrouded, as was the rest of the mountain town, in mist. He'd taken this moment, while his escort had gone somewhere in search of drink, to write his letter and poem by the light of a poor taper which he'd had to relight twice. He'd almost spattered the ink last time it had gone out, and that would have been a frightful waste of paper.

So there was no moon. How he would have liked to write his letter by the light of the moon and the stars.

Nature was giving him one concession: the music of water rushing in the gorge nearby. The spring melt was in full-throated roar. He thought about going to the bridge and seeing if… no, not much point in that. The mist was insidious this night. He doubted whether he'd be able to see anything, and he might fall in by mistake. Also, he'd given his word of honor to Minamoto no Ichitaro, the chief of the men escorting him to Kyushu, that he would not budge from here while they were gone. If this were a year ago, he might try making a break for it, but he thought he must have used up all his luck by now. If he were a fighter, or a woodsman, it would be different. But even a year of living rough had not made a rough man of him – he had wanted to keep the gloss of civilization on him, and that jewel came with a high price.

For all the good it had done him. Perhaps he would have been better off apprenticing himself to Ichiki and becoming a full-fledged thief. He was having thoughts like that, now that it was too late.

He stood, and went to the chest where his well-meaning but decidedly déclassé host kept his paltry collection of books. Before going to impose himself upon a relative, the man had told him to make himself free of the prized collection, but the selection was really very poor. Oh, _Tales of Ise_, and the _Kokinshu_, but everyone had those. They were classics, but they could not be called an indicator of Taste, as everyone who even aspired to Taste, or dimly thought that they should make vague pretensions in the direction of Taste, had copies. Furthermore, Tsujimoto had had occasion to glance through this copy earlier, and the text was exceedingly corrupt. The scribes in these parts must all be drunkards. Still… his fingers deftly unrolled the scroll and rolled back the already-scanned portion as his eyes searched the text for something that spoke to his predicament, as he yearned for he knew not what...

Could you have come here?  
Was it I who came to you?  
I can scarcely tell...  
Was it mist or solid ground –  
Wake to mist, or dream real things?

The disappointed lover to the Ise Virgin, yes. A bit muddled by the indifferent transcription. And her response:

I have also groped  
In the mist and dark of night.  
Can you not tell tonight  
Whether dream or waking ruled –  
Whether mist or clearing skies?

Yes. It was so easy to lose one's way. While the City held you, it was the realest of places. But now, he was in this mountain town, on his way to the end of the world, and the City might have been a dream. No one could tell him what had been real and what had not. But he had a feeling, as he looked bitterly at the mist outside the open shutter, that all the least pleasant parts had been real, and any pleasant memory was only him fooling himself. But all, all was shrouded in mist.

He knew he had been wrong to use the girl... Yumi. She had never done anything to him. Still, he would have rewarded her well, once he'd got back in his place... (some part of him whispered that he'd had only the vaguest notions as to what story he would tell the emperor about how the orb had come to be in his possession, but surely he would have been able to think of _something_...) And he knew it had been foolish not to make every amend he could with the emperor while they'd been in the same room, but he had been so preoccupied... and the emperor was such a child, really, such a negligible person... and he felt that Suguru had overreacted... he was _quite_ sure the Ogasawara sorceress had overreacted; that woman was a dangerous lunatic, she ought to be locked up – thinking about her was a mistake. Her face was quite clear before him, suddenly: beautiful and terrifying in rage, her flashing, mysterious dark blue eyes gazing at him as if he were a filthy insect she would crush at will, and the terror rushed back, the terror he had felt at the sudden knowledge that she could do it, that his continued existence was entirely at her pleasure, and she wasn't the least bit pleased – and then, her face was replaced by Suguru's, at his trial, after Fujiwara no Yukinaga had left the room, and they had confronted one another. Suguru's face was so like his cousin's, they were both almost offensively beautiful, and as bad, as frightening as her look had been, Suguru's had been worse, because Suguru had been his friend, and suddenly it didn't seem that they were friends any longer, or ever would be again. Suguru was angry with him, and Suguru was disgusted with him, and Suguru was washing his hands of him.

He rebelled against this. He stood, and paced. He leaned against the wall by the shutters, and pounded at them once with his fist, and hurt his fist. He glared at the mist, hating it and hating it. He _wasn't_ a bad man. True, he had behaved with some impropriety here and there. He had meant to amend all, however. And there were plenty of men who did worse, with never a twinge of conscience, and skipped blithely off to view the plum blossoms, and no one interfered with them. _Why not me?_

He looked at the scroll which was still in his hand. _Ise_ was all jilted lovers and broken friendships. He wanted something that might tell him all could be mended, alliances restored, homes refurbished and refurnished to one's own taste, love affairs resumed where they'd been left off – in short, that the threads of his old life might be taken up as before, and this past year might be forgotten – by him, by everyone – oh, he was dreaming! Hopeless. All was ruined. Well, whose fault was that? He wouldn't take all of it. He had had a hand in his own ruination, to be sure, but mostly it had been visited on him by the harsh reality of the world. All was vanity. All things, however good, however bad, passed away in time, and were forgotten. The world itself may go this way soon, he thought, the Latter Days of the Law, and all. Maybe he should go into holy orders. Maybe he should concern himself with eternal things, and leave the evanescent ones alone... he went back to the scroll-chest, tossed Ise in, and began to look through its neighbours... no, not _Kokinshu_... no... yes, his kindly but sub-par host did own a copy of the Lotus Sutra. He unrolled it slightly, to the first part.

Most of the Good People knew the Lotus Sutra; it was the most important of the holy books of the Middle Way. His acquaintance with it had never risen above the level of the minimum dutiful. He had not opened his own copy in a long time. He had lost it when he had lost his home. But he seemed to remember a bit in the first chapter – which he knew much better than the rest of it, because he had kept bogging down and having to start over. The Lord was surrounded by a great host of beings - worshippers, Buddhas, monks, nuns, goblins, divine ones -

"... at that moment there issued a ray of light from within the circle of hair between the eyebrows of the Lord. It extended over eighteen hundred thousand Buddha-fields in the eastern quarter, so that all those Buddha-fields appeared wholly illuminated by its radiance, down to the great hell Avîki and up to the limit of existence. And the beings in any of the six states of existence became visible, all without exception. Likewise the Lords Buddhas staying, living, and existing in those Buddha-fields became all visible, and the law preached by them could be entirely heard by all beings..."

... now where was it...

"Here and there, I behold rulers who have abandoned their flourishing kingdoms, harems, and continents, left all their counsellors and kinsmen,  
And betaken themselves to the buddhas of the world to ask for the most excellent law: for the sake of bliss, they put on the robes of the Dharma, and shave hair and beard.  
I also see many Bodhisattvas like monks, living in the forest, and others inhabiting the empty wilderness, engaged in reciting and reading."

Tsjujimoto found himself attracted to the possibility of doing this for the first time in his life. The idea of giving all this up as a bad job and starting all over again at something else was appealing in itself, but if he could really – make a GO of holiness, for want of a better phrase, that might give some virtue and nobility even to his failures. If you must lose worldly eminence, it was better to be seen to turn away from it a-purpose than to be seen to be thrust from it, and to be reaching childishly for ever after, for something out of your reach. And, who knows? If he could receive some of that radiance the Buddhas were so liberal with, by this account, if he could gain in holiness, he might gain sufficient forgiveness to re-enter something like his old life, in or near the City, in a place of honor, though not as great as that to which he had aspired. But better than what he now faced.

He put the scroll back. He sat again by the taper, and he looked at his poem. Perhaps this would be enough for Suguru. Suguru wasn't really an angry or unforgiving person by nature. Surely he could not be so unfeeling as to leave his aniki forever out in the –

There was a bustle outside. Voices approaching his door. His escort coming back, no doubt. He hoped they'd thought to bring him some wine –

The door slid open, and they were upon him, with much noise and stumbling. He made no effort to break free as they seized him and manhandled him to his feet, and began to drag him toward the door. They were slow and clumsy about it, perhaps because they'd been expecting him to put up more of a fight, but he was so shocked by their behavior that he didn't even struggle. He stared at Minamoto no Ichitaro, and that gentleman said "We have new orders about you, sir. Perhaps you won't like them, but such is life." The others spoke up too – he'd never bothered to learn their names – and _now_ he began to struggle – "Now, sir, don't give us any trouble and this'll all go smooth," "We don't like it any better nor you, but orders is orders, see?" "Got his legs? – NO kicking! – good, and we've got his arms –"

At first only able to manage inarticulate squawking, Tsujimoto then graduated to "See here! What is the meaning of this? Unhand me at once!" But they were outside by this time and moving more rapidly down the path to the bridge, and his inquiry brought only laughter, and the chilling remark "Even you oughta be able to guess the _meaning_ of it, sir. You been orphaned and abandoned. Hard world, says I," and more laughter, and various repetitions of "hard world, hard world," from several harsh, winy throats. One man was either weeping seriously or doing a very good imitation. _What can this mean?_ Tsujimoto thought wildly. _Has Fujiwara no Yukinaga had his way after all? – Suguru is in danger. I must warn him –_ "Please, my letter!" he cried. "May I finish it? Won't you take it back? Please!" He struggled harder. "A condemned man's – last – request!" Their feet were thumping on the wooden slats of the bridge. "Surely you won't – deny me that?!"

"No, over you go," said Minamoto no Ichitaro. "But I'll take your letter, certainly. To Prince Suguru, ain't it? – Oh, damn, the mist is clearing. Quick, lads, while we've still got some cover!" The mists _were_ clearing. Tsujimoto could see the cliff wall on the other side of the gorge quite clearly. Then he was heaved up over the guardropes, and flung, all in one motion. The mists below had cleared too, the rushing river and the trees far below could be seen as well as heard, and Tsujimoto saw them at last as he lost contact and there was nothing to hold him up, all below bathed in sweet, gentle moonlight as in the radiance from the Buddha. There was that one beautiful, magical moment when he was suspended in space, when it seemed he might be upheld in one of Kannon's thousand hands, and then the spell was broken, and the beauty below began to grow, horribly...


	15. At the Crossing of the Paths, part 1

"If you _are_ curious about what the Mountain Lily Gang have been up to, just hang tight and wait for the real update, which should be posted before the Twelve Days of Christmas have passed" – Andwick the Wise

Deadline Fail once again. But I think you already knew about me and deadlines.

Welcome, my poor long-suffering darlings, to _part one_ of Chapter 10 of The Sorceress's Heart. I'm breaking it into three parts, all three of which I am posting today. This one is even longer than "Up the Mountain" – at just over 50,000 words, this "chapter" qualifies as a short novel. Writing such a "chapter" takes time, and the revision of it takes time – both the actual pruning/shaping, and the necessity of making sure all the many parts fit together properly. This final push to completion has taken me most of yesterday and about half of today, and there's my weekend shot, though as it's taken me two years and nine months in all, I don't expect you to feel much sympathy.

There are all sorts of reasons, and maybe they don't all need to be explained – I'm always suspicious of a fanfic update where the author's note is a third or more as long as the chapter, not that there's much danger of that here. But there were a few major factors at work in the delay, which it can do no harm to explain.

1) A great deal more in the way of research was needed. Up to that point, I had read Ivan Morris, and some of Genji, and all of Sei Shonagon, and some other bits and bobs, and I wanted to understand the era more thoroughly. Even now I have not achieved the full and copious understanding I would like to have of the Heian period, and its transition into Kamakura. Research continues. But maybe I have enough under my belt to finish book two, and I've certainly got a head start on book three.

2) I fell ill in the fall of 2010 – digestive problems, not life-threatening, but it sapped my energy and made it difficult to concentrate on anything much. I have a full-time job, and the illness hit right when I was in final rehearsals for a show – a character who is taciturn except for one long monologue. Fortunately it wasn't a physically demanding role; I spent a lot of the play simply sitting down. But I was pretty much drained by the time we closed. Winter was rough, but I began to feel better in the spring, and then,

3) you know how it said in my bio that I had most of a degree in English? Well, in spring 2011, I decided that it was time to finish it. The illness had been a wake-up call in several ways. I saw an advisor, got readmitted. (I still work at the college where I studied; never did achieve escape velocity. Probably a good thing, as I didn't have to pay tuition.) Six classes remained before I could qualify for graduation. I polished them off over the course of the next year. Working full time and taking evening classes, as anyone who has tried it knows, does not leave you a lot of spare time and energy for writing. (Had to give up acting too, for a _whole year_.) Still, I continued to slowly push ahead when I had a moment. I just didn't have many moments. The degree is done now, and I am back to acting in plays when there is a role for me, and thinking rather hard about grad school. Before you start wondering again, I wouldn't have to pursue my MA with quite as much intentness as the BA. A class here, a class there... a semester off now and then... there's no rush. I'm doing okay. I've always studied things because I wanted to know about them rather than because I was professionally motivated. It is not an approach I can recommend wholeheartedly.

Even so, I had the chapter mostly drafted, with a few scenes missing, by last June, and I was expecting to update before the summer was over. And when I posted the interchapter near the end of December, I really didn't think it would take more than a week or two longer. It's difficult to quantify what was wrong. I tried to explain it in a gmail chat with a friend. I reproduce the relevant passage here:

_me: I'm wondering if I have written too much. Some scenes I'm not sure about. If they don't lead to anything later in the chapter, then they'll have to lead to something in the next chapter, or the next. And it all has to be consistent with everything that has gone before. This is the trouble with writing a long fiction. And this is the longest fiction I have yet attempted. I don't know if my brain is capacious enough for this sort of work. This chapter is a novel in itself. Each of the sections I am referring to as a "scene" as if this were a frigging play could stand as a "chapter" in a normal sort of novel._

_friend: Perhaps you haz writtened too much. Can you post some now, and wrestle with the rest?_

_me: No. That would simply be deferring the problem to a later date, and I'm afraid I've already done rather too much of that. You may well be correct that I have writtened too much. That is a perspicacious observation._

_friend: You dun maded it yo'self. But, well... why not post what you're happy with at this point and call it "Chapter Whatever-Chapter-You're-On"? And post the rest, when ready, as "Chapter That One Plus One"?_

_me: Because it may be that some of the freaktastical freak-spasms in the later portions of the chapter can only be repaired/justified by making emendations to the earlier portions of the chapter. It's already too late to make emendations to earlier chapters, you see, so I have to work with the one I've got._

_friend: Right. Why freak-spasms?_

_me: It may not be entirely apt. It was the first word that came to mind. Just, some things aren't quite what they are yet. They need additional existence, and encouragement thereto._

_friend: Well, you could write it so that everyone just decides to stop fighting and agree and they all go on a lovely picnic and live happily every after?_

_me: I could do that, if I wanted to betray everything that everybody loves._

_friend: Oo! THAT sounds like fun!_

_me: You do it, then._

Not satisfactory, probably. It doesn't satisfy me either. And I'm not sure the chapter will satisfy. I've been working on it too long to see it objectively. I may have written too much, I may have revised too much, and even now I've got a feeling I've left out something important, though that's probably just the usual megrims and anxiety and so on.

Anyway, it's done. Like my BA, chapter 10 is done, and I never have to do it again. Now, onward.

I'm very sorry to have made you all wait so long. I can speculate very little about when the next chapter will be posted, but I don't think it's going to be any two point five years. Still... "Life is distracting and uncertain,/She said and went to draw the curtain." – Edward Gorey

Glossary: I've mentioned the Directions before: _katatagae_, or directional taboos. These are complicated, and I have been able to locate only one source in a western language that fully explains them, and that language is French. My French is decidedly rusty... Northeast was pretty much always an unlucky direction; it was referred to as "the demon's gate", and this was why the monasteries of Mt. Hiei were built, to protect the city and the Emperor from these evil influences. But any direction could also be an unlucky one to travel in, depending on the day, and the season. The lack of detailed information has made it necessary for me to improvise a bit. Remember, this is a fantasy, not historical fiction. I've already got a number of things wrong, some consciously, but most because my research was incomplete. Still, I may revise this bit later; research continues. Research always continues. _Sekkanke_: one may say glibly that the Fujiwara family ruled Japan in the days of Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon, but in fact the Fujiwara family had been important for some centuries, and had grown very large. First the northern branch became the most important and the most powerful, and then later a branch even of that, referred to as _Sekkanke_ or the Regent's branch, became preeminent. Members of the Fujiwara family who had been passed over for government posts might even become enemies of their own relatives in the _Sekkanke_; the units of power tended to be individual households within a family rather than the family as a whole; the days of clan unity were long gone. _Kampaku_: in English we have just the one word, regent, one who rules on behalf of a king or emperor. A _kampaku_ was a regent who assisted an adult emperor, and _sessho_ was the title for a regent who ruled for an infant or child emperor. Especially under Fujiwara no Michinaga, there was often little practical difference between the two. "Up-to-date": the word Tsukasa used was _imamekashi_. This was the ultimate term of approbation in the Heian world. The horror of living in the provinces, away from the Capital, was that you wouldn't know how people were doing things in the Capital, which was where Good Taste made its home, and you would no longer be up-to-date. _Kokinshu_: the "Collection of Poems of Ancient and Modern Times" was an anthology of _waka_ poetry originally published in the early tenth century, and a very influential compilation: one of those books, like the _Tales of Ise_, which every cultured person had a copy of.

I also want to add that, interestingly, Japanese personal pronouns tend not to be gender-specific, so the conversation between Fujiwara-dono and the headman toward the end is a lot more trouble in English than it would be in Japanese. Maybe English should take a hint from that, what do you think? (duck head quickly)

* * *

Chapter X – At the Crossing of the Paths

Rei opened the tent-flap and looked out.

The opening of the tent was facing west, and the sky that way was still dark, but the faint glow on the trees and the mountainside told her that behind her, on the other side of the tent, the sun was peeking up over the horizon.

Rei didn't want to look at the new day. The thought of it depressed her. She preferred to look at the west – actually a bit south of west. There, in the direction of night, lay the city of her birth, and the one person she loved most in the world.

The thought of Yoshino tended to bring tears to her eyes these days. It did so now. But she did not close them; she kept looking steadily at the trees and the mountain, and through them at all the distance that separated her from her beloved.

It wasn't as if this was the first time they'd been separated. They'd grown up in different houses, but not far from one another, and they'd spent a great deal of time together. As their bodies matured, their love and friendship had taken on new dimensions, and they'd wanted more time alone together than they could get – far more. But they hadn't wanted their elders to find out what was going on between them; they were afraid they'd be summarily married off, which was the last thing in the world either of them wanted. The one thing Rei hated more than the idea of being married to a man was the idea of _Yoshino_ being married to a man; she had used to become dizzily enraged at the thought of it, and at her own feeling of powerlessness. The best day, the most deliriously happy day of their lives so far, was the day they'd met Fujiwara-dono, and she had offered them both a place in the Guild.

Later, in the garden of Yoshino's home, they had made their pact: Rei would enter the Guild right away. Yoshino apparently had to wait a year because she wasn't the right age yet – for marriage either, come to that – but in a year she would join Rei.

Rei had been angry, in tears, at the thought of losing Yoshino for a whole year, and Yoshino hadn't liked it any better. "But only think of it," she had smiled at Rei fiercely through her own tears – "one year, and we're together. They can never separate us after that."

Rei had admired Yoshino's resolve, for she had known the year would be an eternity for both of them. "But Yoshino – if they try to make you marry –"

A _very_ sly smile, one of those smiles that made Rei's bones feel lighter. "I can hold them off. I can delay them. Anyway, without you around, or anyone else who seems to threaten the future they want for me, where will be the hurry to get me married?"

It hadn't been as simple as that, of course. A suitor had turned up – a man of perhaps forty summers, a lesser minister, and the match would have meant quite a step up for the family – and, hearing the rumors, Rei had thought that all was lost. The first whispers had reached her ears just as she was about to go on campaign in Koryo, too, so she couldn't sneak back to her home and try to interfere.

But Yoshino had triumphed in the end, and a year to the day after their vow, she had joined Rei at the Mountain Lily Inn, just as Eriko-sama was leaving to get married. Reunited after a year, and independent, for the first time, and their own room together, and _privacy_. That first night…

... that first...

Just the thought of that first night was almost enough to bend Rei's proud back, close her eyes – but no, she was being strong. Yoshino would be amazed, to see how strong she could be... Anyway, she had promised Noriko.

Noriko...

Rei let the tent flap fall back into place, turned on her knees, and crawled back into her bedroll. Noriko immediately snuggled up to her. "... you take all the warm away when you go..." she complained sleepily.

Rei sighed, and put her arms around Noriko. This was all that was filling the Yoshino-shaped hole in her life... Noriko, close and comfortable... perhaps a little _too_ close for complete comfort... but the nights were cold, in the north, in the mountains, and you slept warmer with a bedfellow, and she could warm herself with magic just fine but Noriko couldn't, not yet, and she could hardly let Noriko freeze, could she? _Just keep telling yourself that,_ she told herself, as her hand involuntarily moved on Noriko's back, and she hastily turned a stroke into a pat. _This is why Yoshino didn't want you to travel with Noriko. She knew this would be how things would be._

But seriously, what else _could_ Rei do?

_You can get up in the night repeatedly and use magic to warm Noriko's bedroll and then get back into your own,_ she told herself.

Her own mind could be exhausting. She would have suspected Yoshino of leaving a piece of herself in her, so that she could natter in Rei's thoughts all the way to the Sun Gorge, if she didn't know that Yoshino hadn't got that far in her studies yet.

_But she _has_ left a piece of herself in you. That's what love is. You are part of one another._

Rei shoved that thought aside. With her lover temporarily absent, she'd been thinking a lot about love lately – and about the things Noriko had said to her the day they'd all been looking for Yumi-chan – and she was less and less sure that she knew what love was. _Content yourself, Yoshino,_ she told her own mind. _If you're annoyed at me for keeping Noriko warm at night, then you should have been more careful what company you kept the day of the dance._ And, she reminded herself, that was only Yoshino's latest betrayal of their love, just before she'd left Heian Kyo – Her jaw tightened, and she closed her eyes firmly, willing sleep. _We are not going to think about that._

"Everything all right, Rei-sama?"

Noriko was done sleeping already? Rei opened her eyes. "Fine, fine. Just, I don't know, looking outside, checking the lay of the land –"

"– moping –"

"– moping, fine, if you insist, but only a little, and –"

"Are you going to try to tell me you didn't cry?"

One thing Noriko had in common with Yoshino was that Rei always found herself being completely truthful with her about her feelings. With others, she could do a lot of concealing, but never with Yoshino, and never, she was discovering, with Noriko. But with Yoshino it was because she adored Yoshino and the guilt from being untruthful with her was too much, whereas with Noriko it was simply because Noriko had a nose for the truth. Noriko wouldn't come right out and accuse you of lying, mind. She was too polite for that – well, except when she was angry. Usually, she would just ask you questions which you didn't see as steering you in the direction of the truth you didn't want to tell until you were right on top of it and it was smiling up at you.

Rei sighed. "I did cry, yes, I did, but only a little, I stopped myself, and you don't have to worry."

Noriko put her arms around Rei and gave her a comforting, discomfiting hug. "I never said you weren't allowed to cry, Rei-sama. I can't forbid you to be upset. Just, maybe you do it too often. I know it's difficult..."

Noriko let that one trail off diplomatically, without naming Yoshino. Just as well. An awful lot of things were difficult, just now...

"Do you know how Sei-sama is doing?" Noriko asked a moment later, as if she'd heard that last thought.

"No," Rei said. She waited a moment. "I was actually going to ask you."

Noriko arched her neck back to look Rei in the eyes. "Why me? You're her friend and fellow Dragon..."

"Well, I know you talk to Shimako-chan sometimes. She seems to like talking to you. And Shimako-chan is Sei's soror mystica."

"But Sei-sama won't talk to Shimako-san lately. Shimako-san is really worried." Noriko sounded worried too.

"Are her feelings hurt?"

"Well, Sei-sama doesn't seem to be talking to anybody else lately either. Not even Youko-sama, and they're close friends, aren't they?"

"True enough. Things have been pretty gloomy all around lately, haven't they?"

Noriko sighed. They lay there in silence for a while longer.

Then Noriko said, softly, "Do you think – Sachiko-sama feels guilty?"

Rei considered this. "Not... guilty, exactly. She did her best. But some cases are beyond even her help. She probably wishes she could have got to Minamoto-san faster, but I was watching, and really, she moved as quickly as I've ever seen anyone move. She practically flew. Risky conditions, too, a chasm like that, unless you positively take wing. And that might have taken away energy she needed for healing."

"But that begs the question, doesn't it?" Noriko propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Rei with adorable seriousness, her robe falling slightly open, which Rei steadfastly ignored, looking with forced calm into Noriko's eyes. "Why couldn't Minamoto Bunko-sama save herself? She was a Dragon. She wasn't in Youko-sama's class, or yours, or Sachiko-sama's, but she was skilled, by all accounts. Why didn't she turn herself into a bird, or conjure an updraft to waft her to the safety of stone?..."

"Well, every indication was that she was suddenly taken ill, and lost consciousness. And everybody was busy with climbing, and Fujiwara-dono was helping little Momoko-chan out of that crack she'd got stuck in, and by the time she looked around... It was bad timing and bad luck, as far as I can make out."

"Yes. And all you Dragons seem to feel dreadful about it, and Fujiwara-dono has been..."

"Grim. Very grim." Rei shook her head. Then she was mildly surprised to find that she was brushing Noriko's hair back gently from her brow. Noriko was looking down at the bedroll.

Rei stopped what she couldn't remember starting and let out a great huff of air. "I don't think it's Fujiwara-dono's fault either. I think it was an _accident_. I do feel badly about it. And maybe I could have got to her faster than Sachiko, but even if I had, I'm useless as a healer. Always have been. I could have held her hand, I suppose, but I saw her and it looked to me as if the impact killed her instantly. Not surprising. It was a long fall. Half that distance might have been enough to kill her."

"And you've told Fujiwara-dono this?"

"Everyone has. She's conceded it."

"But she's still..."

"She doesn't like losing people. She doesn't very often. This is the second Guild death since I've joined, and that first one was in _combat_. But she was pretty unapproachable that time, too..."

Noriko sighed, shook her head, and tucked herself back under Rei's chin. "Well, I hope Minamoto Bunko-sama has reached the Amitabha Paradise. Or, if she's been reincarnated, I hope the next life is longer and happier. And I hope everybody can pull themselves together soon..."

Rei held Noriko, and stared straight at the side of the tent, and didn't move. "Including Minamoto-san's soror mystica?"

"Well... perhaps I'm not as heartless as all _that..._"

* * *

"Concentrate, Yumi."

"I'm _trying_, Mistress."

"And don't snap at me."

"I didn't mean to, Mistress. It's only..."

"Don't apologize. Just concentrate. It wouldn't have splashed like that if you were."

"I'm –" Yumi shook her head, and tried anew.

And went on trying.

They sat outside the tent they shared, which was pitched in a fallow field the villagers had allowed the sorceresses to use. Before them, on a rock which was still cold – the morning sun had not yet reached it – was a teapot, with tealeaves in it, and a cookpot, with water in it. The water was fresh from the well, and as cold as the stone.

The idea was for Yumi to boil the water to make tea. Yumi had made some progress, and was able to do it with elemental magic. But it was necessary now for her to begin to tread the lands between Dream and Waking, so Sachiko had commanded her to boil the water in Dream, and move the boiling water to the Waking cookpot on the stone before them. Yumi had had some difficulty with this. She had got to the point where she could see the portal of Dream, which was the first necessity, and she had got to the point of being able to boil water with her mind on the other side of that portal, but she had not yet found the state of mind needful for moving that heat across the threshold.

She was close. Sachiko was sure of it. But she was balking.

"Such confusion in your poor mind," Sachiko sighed, after a decent interval. She put her hands on Yumi's shoulders and massaged them gently.

Yumi closed her eyes. What Sachiko-sama was doing actually made it harder for her to concentrate on the pot of water, or anything else, but she could hardly tell Sachiko-sama that, and anyway she didn't want her to stop.

"What are you thinking about?" Sachiko-sama said softly in her right ear. "Something personal, or more general?"

Yumi couldn't say what she was really thinking about, as she hardly knew herself, so she floundered around for the last thing she'd been thinking about – and came up with "What happened yesterday –" and then stopped.

"Ah, yes," Sachiko-sama said in the same voice. Not angry, as far as Yumi could tell. "Keep looking at the cookpot" – gentle, and Yumi opened her eyes and looked at the pot of water. "Keep looking at it, but don't bother about the task just now. Yesterday. A day crowded with incident. Is it to do with Minamoto Bunko-san?"

"No, Mistress. Before – when we were scouting –"

Ah. The _other_ thing that had been bothering Sachiko. "I wish I could explain that to you. Unfortunately, you are the only one who can explain it."

"Mistress –"

"Unhelpful, I know." Her deft, strong fingers continued to work Yumi's shoulders, and Yumi's eyelids drooped a little. "Eye on the cookpot," Sachiko said gently, and Yumi opened her eyes wide, _the cookpot, the cookpot_–_ how can she tell what my eyes are doing, from back there?..._

Sachiko was feeling her way, here. She was glad it wasn't Minamoto Bunko-san who was plaguing Yumi; Minamoto Bunko-san was plaguing Sachiko, but her death was at least relatively easy to explain to Yumi, unlike the mystery of Yumi's self...

_Scouting was usually routine, but sometimes you found something surprising, and sometimes, if you weren't cautious, something surprising found you. Sachiko was out front, looking over the ridge at the distant valley..._ where they were now sitting... _trying to pick out the best route to get the party there by nightfall, and she had heard something fast behind her, something that would have been noiseless if it hadn't brushed some leaves in passing, and she had whirled to face it, and at the same moment, heard Yumi say "Hi!" in a sharp voice – there was also a concussive sensation that washed over her, as if air had exploded, and Sachiko was almost positive about the flash of light in the corner of her eye. When she turned, she saw Yumi in a fighting stance, as if she had just completed a hooking kick with her right heel, and a large yowling ball of fur was bouncing in the undergrowth, and a moment later it had picked itself up and fled, gracefully – a wildcat, Sachiko thought, but she couldn't be sure of the breed. Yumi held her position for a moment, then her leg wobbled, and with a cry of "glaaaargh!" she fell on her bottom._

_They didn't discuss the incident; there was no time. They had to finish the scouting assignment and get back to the party. Sachiko meant to report it to Fujiwara-dono, but there were more urgent considerations, and she postponed it. And not long after that, poor Minamoto Bunko-san fell to her death, and every other consideration was driven out of Sachiko's mind..._

_They buried her as close as possible to where she had fallen – this was how these things were done, in the Guild, when such grim necessities arose – and pressed on. Fujiwara-dono had taken charge of Bunko-san's soror mystica, poor Ayanokouji Kikuyo-san, who, while not weeping – not then – was exceedingly distracted. She didn't seem to believe what had happened, and at times seemed to have forgotten that it had. She would wonder aloud where her mistress was, and no one could look her in the eye. And they pressed on. Not much else they could do. Sachiko had moved as quickly as she could, had done the best she knew how, but she had heard the horrid sound of the impact, and she was pretty sure that Bunko-san had died instantly. What was curious was that Bunko-san had not cried out as she had fallen, but Sachiko assumed that to be because she had fainted. Kikuyo-san said at one point that her mistress had seemed out-of-sorts, unwell, at breakfast, but had said, "it will pass."_

And so it had, alas... Sachiko had found it difficult to think of anything else for the rest of the day, but most of the time she had concentrated on walking and climbing and Yumi. Fujiwara-dono had developed a dangerous aura, so that even her most trusted assistant, Youko-sama, was leery of speaking to her, and Sachiko herself didn't remember the scouting incident until they had pitched camp here last night, were eating dinner, and Yumi brought it up, wondering timidly if they should broach the subject with Fujiwara-dono.

There were a number of things strange about it. What had Yumi done, exactly? Sachiko's cherished famula had seemed a little dazed, and now had no clear memory of the moment, only its aftermath. She knew she had done something, but wasn't sure what it was. Another strange thing about it, which Sachiko had not mentioned to Yumi, was that Sachiko had never seen a cat of that size except in China; as far as she knew there were none at all in these lands – _apart from Yamiko-san, of course_ – though there were a couple of small breeds in some of the smaller islands... She could think of a number of different explanations for this apparition, none of them pleasant.

But things had to come in order. Fujiwara-dono might, or might not, be able to help them to understand what had happened. But Yumi had to learn how to use the Dream portal. If dangerous things were going to keep happening, Yumi's best defense was knowledge, and skill. Her suddenly bursting out with things she'd forgotten she knew had been efficacious so far, especially – Sachiko shuddered as she remembered her feelings on first hearing of it – when a horrible monster was chasing her through the night, and had cornered her, and she suddenly remembered that she could climb up a sheer cliff. But reliable, steady knowledge you reliably, steadily knew you possessed was best, or at any rate was less nerve-racking to Sachiko, and it was Sachiko's responsibility to teach Yumi, and teach her she would. She just had to find the right tempo... _and get Yumi thinking of something else... lull her into a receptive, malleable frame of mind..._

"How about the cookpot on the other side of the portal?" Sachiko asked, trying not to let her tone become too urgent.

"The water is boiling, Mistress," Yumi said a bit dreamily. "That part's easy."

"Good." _Offhand. Casual._ "Let's review things," Sachiko mused. She kept up the massage. "You can summon a versatile elemental servant."

"Yes... only he's not quite a servant... I don't..."

"At times he seems more a colleague than a servant, yes. And you are quite sure he is male, without being at all sure of how you know it."

"... yes..."

"Your feet can 'remember' the earth. By the way, why do you call it 'remembering' when in fact your whole body seems to forget the world for a moment?"

"I'm not sure... it seems like... well, like my body is 'remembering' another place... like a place it belongs... but that's silly; I don't belong there. I can't last there very long..."

Sachiko nodded. "You go to another world, a chaotic place where ghosts and old gods swoop at you, and become violent if you visit them too many times in one day. But whatever 'remembering' means, it's a trick for disappearing if you need to, or outdistancing an opponent who is chasing you."

"Yes, Mistress..."

"Another trick of a similar kind is the 'middle way.' Which sounds like the Way of the Buddha, but isn't. If there are two or more possible ways out of a spot you're in, you can open a hole in the world between two of them, enter it, and choose where in the world the other end of the hole opens out – anywhere in the world that you've seen before."

"Yes, Mistress..."

"It says much for your sense of duty that you didn't send yourself back to Heian Kyo, out of danger."

The possibility of sending herself that far away from Sachiko-sama had never occurred to Yumi until now. She didn't like the thought, and shivered a little. But Sachiko-sama was here, warm, at Yumi's back...

"You have to choose fast, or the way will close with you inside it, and there is no escape?"

"None, Mistress..."

"You're sure?..."

"Yes, Mistress..."

"How?"

"I... " Yumi fell silent again.

"Leave that for the moment, then," Sachiko said reassuringly, continuing to knead Yumi's shoulders. _Clumsy. I've got her mildly entranced now. Mustn't break it..._

Sachiko-sama was massaging Yumi's shoulders; Sachiko-sama was taking care of her. Sachiko-sama was quizzing her at the same time, true, but being gentle when Yumi didn't know the answers. It was all ground they had covered together before, so it was as if they were dancing, with words – they both knew the steps, both knew what to expect...

"Now. Not too many memories have come back, not as many as we had hoped. The one I like best is the one where you're counting the stones in a stream with your feet."

_One, two, three... four, five, six..._ "I like that one too, Mistress..."

"The one where you're talking to a frog, and it's telling you it's not in the mood for conversation, I don't quite know what to do with, I confess. Do you think you could talk to a frog at this moment?"

"It would depend on the frog, Mistress..."

Sachiko frowned. Yumi's voice still sounded dreamy, entranced, but her answer was incongruously sharp-witted. Feeling a trace of excitement, she went on, "Frogs, or other sorts of animals... most of the impressive things you've done, you did when no one had asked you to do them, and you didn't know they were going to happen until they happened. Something was sitting there... like the cookpot and the teapot... and you just acted on it... simply by virtue of being brought into contact with it... it was done, without any need for consultation –"

There was a bubbling sound, and Sachiko looked up from the nape of Yumi's neck, where she had been clearing away the hair and caressing it gently. Sure enough, the water in the cookpot was boiling, and then the cookpot rose gently, a handspan or two, and was pouring its contents into the teapot.

Sachiko waited, holding her breath.

The act of pouring being accomplished, the cookpot empty and the teapot full, the cookpot floated gently back down to the ground and rested, in its original spot.

Then all was still.

"Tea's up," Sachiko said, after a moment.

Yumi sighed. "You tricked me, Mistress." But she didn't budge from her spot between Sachiko's legs. She snuggled further back into her, in fact, and Sachiko put her arms around her and held her near. Yumi's own legs, which had been straight out in front of her, her feet almost bracketing the pots, now pulled back and tucked themselves so that Yumi was curled up in Sachiko's embrace.

That was a success. Teaching Yumi was like this; Sachiko kept having to find new ways of getting around this peculiar wall of hers. It was almost as if, on some deep level past Sachiko's ken, Yumi _disapproved _of magic, of her _own _magic, and had to be tricked or surprised into using it. She had strongly resisted learning the elemental method of boiling; the water creature had kept appearing, and it had taken Sachiko at least a week to get it to understand that Yumi wasn't in any danger just because she was feeling deep agitation; she hadn't wanted to hurt its feelings, and didn't know whether to call that a foolish concern or not. _It _is_ a separate entity. It's linked to Yumi's power, but summoning it doesn't frighten Yumi, and performing even the simplest magic on her own _does_._ And boiling water in Dream was fine, but Yumi had strongly resisted bringing it to Waking, where it could really make tea... _or burn someone?..._

There was a warmth at Sachiko's side, in her travel pouch. She realized it had been building for some time, and she had only now noticed it. She reached inside – yes, it was certainly the orb. Quite warm, but not uncomfortable to touch. She pulled it out and looked at it, expecting to see the golden light as usual –

A burnt orange deepening to red at the center. Autumn colors. And a faint hum, almost a voice.

Yumi had turned her head, seen what Sachiko was seeing, heard what she was hearing, and went very still. They looked at it together.

It glowed steadily in this way for a few moments, then the humming ceased and the light turned back to gold.

Sachiko slowly put it back in the pouch.

"Another thing to tell Fujiwara-dono," she said to Yumi. Yumi nodded solemnly.

But not now. She kissed Yumi's head and put her arms around her again. "You did very well, Yumi. I am pleased. Another question occurs: when we fought the demon that time, how did you get the idea of summoning the water-creature again? How did you even know you could get it to be that large?"

"I just –" Yumi cut off, or drifted, Sachiko couldn't really tell which.

"You just did it. Without thinking."

"Do you disapprove, Mistress?"

Sachiko began to massage Yumi's shoulders again. Yumi sighed and let her head fall forward. "Yes and no," Sachiko said. "Look at what you just did, for example. There has to be an instinctive, spontaneous, unthinking element to what we do. Is a reverie reasonable? Does a nightmare plan and scheme for love, does Dream craft its plans for conquest in careful documents?... But there is also Waking. We need to be sure that the solution we are dredging up from the oceanic depths is really suited to the problem before us on dry land. Power that is completely unguided, completely irrational, may do the wrong thing, or at least an inconvenient one, and we must get along with other people."

"We sorceresses are not popular with a lot of other people, Mistress. You've said so."

"True. But it is in our power to make ourselves less popular, so that we would not be tolerated even at the fringes, as we are now. Raw, spontaneous magic is antisocial." That last declaration was pure Fujiwara-dono, and Sachiko smiled, remembering the first time Fujiwara-dono had said it to her, a one-on-one session on Sachiko's first Questioning, on a high ridge with an astonishing sunset of saffron and puce and canary, layered like the sleeves of a court lady's robes, burning in the west behind them as they'd stared into the darkening east, and Sachiko thought about how, in Waking, it was nearly three years since that lesson, but in Dream, it was only one little step from that to this. Remarkable... "Your lesson for the day, Yumi."

"I will remember, Mistress."

* * *

Taro stood on the high cliff and looked down at the field below, covered with little tents.

It irked him, the sight of the sorceresses' camp. The field wasn't being used for anything right now, no; that wasn't the problem. And yes, hospitality was important, so no, that wasn't the problem either. The problem was...

The problem was...

"They're so orderly," said old Shizuka-san. She sat on the rock nearby, a-stroking of her cat, Uncle Counselor. Old Uncle seemed to be in balance today, thankfully; she could be a troublesome beast. Having such a masculine name for a lady cat was only the least troublesome thing about her. People had suggested any number of times that old Shizuka-san change it, but she was adamant that Uncle Counselor was Uncle Counselor, and a Great Lady cat, and there was an end of it.

But old Shizuka-san had put her finger on it. "That's it," said Taro, looking at her in amazement. "That's it. That's just the trouble. Too _orderly_."

"The demons love order," old Shizuka-san said, nodding. "Love to attack it, take it apart, fiddle with it. They love new things too. They love to destroy our things. And old things are boring because they've seen them before, and disorderly things aren't in any particular order, which is why they're called 'disorderly', y'see, so they can't be put out of order, 'cause they ain't in it. Newness and order: that's what they like. Things as is fit to destroy."

"Raou," said Uncle Counselor, summarizing.

Old Shizuka-san could drive you out of your wits, but she spoke wisely. Thing was, when you told her "that's a wise thing you just said just now," she would just smile and say she'd got it from Uncle Counselor. Uncle Counselor had all the wise thoughts, just as Uncle Counselor was the one who got stomach cramps and started to _wrououl_ing when the demons were about to try something.

"They've been quiet lately," Taro ventured after a few moments.

"A good thing for poor Uncle's stomach, too," old Shizuka-san confirmed.

"Raou," Uncle Counselor added.

"Only a matter of time," said Haru-chan, some ways behind them, coming out of the shrine.

They hadn't been talking loudly enough for Haru-chan to really hear them, but that was Haru-chan's way. Haru-chan often heard of things without hearing them, and knew things were going to happen when no one could possibly have known. That was why a child of Haru-chan's age had outer sentry duty. Taro had powers of his own, of course – which was why _he_ was on outer sentry duty – but his powers weren't much use without Haru-chan's powers, or old Shizuka-san's – or rather, Uncle Counselor's. All they could do, Haru-chan and Shizuka-san and Uncle, was to know what the demons were going to do before they did it – sometimes bare moments before. And all Taro, and the other fighters and magickers could do, was be ready when the warnings came. They depended on each other.

Haru-chan had come to join them – at first standing beside Taro, head coming up to Taro's shoulder, then hunkered down at his side, still gazing over the cliff's edge into the valley below.

"These 'sorceresses' have been here before," Haru-chan said at last. "Right?"

"Last time was a few years back," Taro confirmed. "You weren't on sentry duty yet. And they didn't stay long – certainly didn't pitch camp, like this time. Just stopped to eat their lunch and say how d'ye do. Their leader is friends with the Madman. She's a strange enough one herself."

Haru-chan nodded.

There was a companionable silence. The four of them continued to watch the interlopers down below – at least, Taro assumed that Uncle was watching with them; she was mostly looking in that direction, but it was hard to be sure with Uncle.

"They all look young," Haru-chan said. "Some of 'em don't look much older'n me."

"Their leader – a Fujiwara. _She's_ old," said old Shizuka-san. She cackled a bit. "I think she was old when I was young. Most of 'em are young, though, yeah. Studying the magicks. Learning from the old one."

Quiet again.

"They're going to make trouble, aren't they?" Haru-chan said.

"I've told 'em," said Taro irritably. "We've told 'em."

"We have," said old Shizuka-san.

"Raou."

"_I'll_ tell them." Haru-chan stood. "Come with me, Taro-san?"

"When I'm off-duty," Taro said. "Sure. But you know the Madman. He'll listen, but in the end, he'll do what he does."

"True, that," said old Shizuka-san. "But this time, _everyone's_ told him. Council'll have to listen. He'll have to."

"I'll go anyway," said Haru-chan.

* * *

They sat on the dirt floor in an unfurnished room of this wooden house: headman and council on one side – seven men – and sorceresses on the other – two women.

This was Youko's first meeting with the headman of Gawagawa Village. His height, his unusual tattoos, and the strange ways he moved and spoke, made him look decidedly outlandish, and so it was startling to find when he opened his mouth that he spoke fluent Japanese, even with a faint hint now and then of a Heian Kyo accent – he had spent some years there as a young man, he had told her.

This village was a unique one. Situated in the middle of the Terrible Wilds, right by the so-called Scar, the site of an ancient disaster which had caused this great uninhabitable slash in the map of northeastern Honshu, its impossible people lived cheek-and-jowl with much of the country's more exotic wildlife, and some things that didn't exactly qualify as wildlife – though they could be wild and lively enough, in all conscience.

This part of the country was rife with demons. Demons were not entirely of this world – there was another world they called home, and they had some tenuous relationship with Dream, about which even Fujiwara-dono did not know the details – but they were constantly drawn to this world. They had used to cause occasional trouble in the Capital, but in the years since Fujiwara-dono had come into her full power, had been obliged to seek elsewhere for their food and entertainment. And they had always, for whatever reason, been quite populous in the Terrible Wilds of the northeast, especially in the lands around the Scar.

So this was obviously a very strange place for a village. One wouldn't think human beings could thrive in such a place. But there had always been villages here. The land was too tempting, for it was richly fertile, and no lords could claim dominion over it: some had tried in the past and had been forced to admit defeat one after another; the challenges of farming and administering the land in the face of the mischief and interference the demons and other local supernatural miscreants offered were simply too great.

So humble people – disgruntled peasants who were sick of having to give most of what they grew to a lord, barely getting enough to keep themselves alive – would come here and start their own villages. And food would disappear, or villagers would disappear, no doubt taken for the demons' stew-pots. Even when the demons weren't in the mood for such ghastly, grievous doings, they would play vicious pranks, damaging to crops, livestock, or the villagers' peace of mind. Inexplicable droughts that confined themselves to just the particular areas of land the villagers were trying to farm; sudden wildfires that meandered about the villages, leaving the crops untouched but damaging essential equipment; repeated alarms at night so that the people were sleepless, exhausted, strung out, unable to work. And so the people would grow discouraged and leave, and return to the lords, to servitude – to an oppression they understood. These villages of the people would start strong, but last at most three or four years.

This village, Gawagawa, had lasted fifteen.

According to Fujiwara-dono, this was mostly because of the outlandish man with the painted skin, and the horrendous scar of an old burn on his left arm, sitting in front of Youko at this moment, though when Youko suggested something of the kind, he had scoffed. "No-one can do this alone," he had said, "and anyway, I have to sleep sometimes."

Youko had the feeling that he was being excessively modest, but she also felt sure that he would not explain the whole truth behind the success of Gawagawa Village to anyone, even Fujiwara-dono had she been present, and that there was no point in asking. (He had managed to avoid telling Youko his name so far, so when it came to concealing things she had every confidence in him.) And Youko did not doubt that he mainly spoke truth; it was clear that all the villagers worked together to ensure their mutual prosperity, as most villagers do in most places, but in most places they contended with bad weather, with difficult soil, with greedy lords and overseers. This was a village at constant war with a mostly unseen enemy. These villagers had their huts in a circle, with the children and elderly housed in the inner huts. There was a Buddhist temple at the very center (with exactly one monk, as far as Youko knew; he was sitting among the councilors in front of her), a temple of which this room was an antechamber; it doubled as the headman's home, though he didn't spend very much time here, except sometimes when he was sleeping, and when there was a council meeting, like now. (Where he spent most of his time was the Shinto shrine on the outskirts, on a high cliff to the northeast, overlooking the village, which doubled as a watchhouse. The utilitarian aspect of religion was emphasized in a place like this.) The outer circle of huts was all able-bodied persons, some fighters, some with magical gifts, often haunted people ready to meet the darkness of demons with darkness of their own. _A war of darknesses._ And when you have an enemy that lives in woods, and can hide "behind the air" at will, and appear in your midst without warning, of what use are standard fortifications and watchstanding routines? They had a moat, though an incomplete one, mostly as a diversion, because the demons thought it was a source of water for their crops, but they mainly used it for trapping incautious demons. They had sensitives among the watchstanders, some children – always accompanied by fighters – and one old woman with a cat, if Youko had heard rightly... They had even two gates to the village, north and south, not because they deluded themselves that gates were any sort of protection, but because they were good places to put up tall posts with demon skulls on them.

(These had caused some consternation among the younger sorceresses when they had arrived, though Youko had admired them,and they had been the first thing to raise a smile on Sei's face in days, and Youko had been able to see from the burning of Sachiko's eyes that she approved of the decorations fiercely; she held a grudge against demons generally, on Yumi's account.)

There were all sorts of talismans, wards and protections hung everywhere, and Fujiwara-dono had warned them that there were some spells cast that might be injurious if anyone interfered with the crops in any way, not to mention the fact that it would be rude of them, so they had left the winter crops alone and confined themselves to the edible plants that grew here and there in the nearby forest.

Villagers who regularly bargained with the kami and repelled demons wouldn't necessarily have much to fear from the Sorceress's Guild, but they were nevertheless wary of them, while at the same time having a healthy respect for them. That is, they had respect for Fujiwara-dono, for they knew her of old, and she and their headman were friends, after a fashion. But Fujiwara-dono was unavailable at the moment, and Youko was in the position of having to earn their respect without Fujiwara-dono to help her.

Touko was at her side. Touko could be little help in this situation, but she was moral support, and she did at least know when to keep quiet.

They, the Questioning, had got into a muddle about the Directions. Easy enough to do. They had to stop over here for a brief time before they could press on again in their currently preferred direction of east. Three days ought to do it. And after yesterday's disaster, Fujiwara-dono apparently needed to regroup. She needed a little time to herself – difficult when you are mother to upwards of a hundred girls and young women. But there was also the fact that Youko had never seen this village. Sometimes, a stop here was necessary, and Youko and Sei needed to visit the place, see where it was, make themselves known to the headman and council.

Except it was Just Youko. (And Touko.) Fujiwara-dono was elsewhere – Youko had not dared ask where – and Sei was off alone someplace, and very unhappy. Youko would have to find her soon. But first, she would have to get some kind of answer from the headman and council –

"No," said the headman.

He was still smiling that pleasant if somewhat sly smile, but the word that had come out of it had unquestionably been –

"No?"

"Three days is out of the question, I fear." He was currently folded in an uncomfortable-looking sitting position, putting one in mind of a giant grasshopper who had sat down among them and refused to explain itself, and he looked very picturesque and alarming indeed next to the rest of the council, who were all more of the usual size of man and lacked his bodily decorations. His hair was black, except for a few places where it was stark white, rather than grey, and his voice was strange, fragmented: hoarse, whispery, frequently absent, and then with patches of resonant brilliance, like the voice of a born orator who had been obliged to do a great deal of screaming. "I would like to accommodate you, Chicken Legs. Indeed I would. But your sheer numbers make it impossible. Times are lean. You have to eat, same as we do. Hospitality is one thing, but the supply of edible plants hereabouts is limited, and three days of you might be what pushes us over the brink."

"I see..." Youko did not care to be addressed as "Chicken Legs". She felt that the headman knew this, and was taking advantage of his position.

"One day," said the monk, seated to the headman's right.

"Yes," the headman agreed. "We'll try to argue one day. I think we can justify that to everybody. But honestly, most of our people want you to move on _now_."

Touko unexpectedly spoke up. "If I may?... we did bring our own food. Our trail rations are holding up well. And it is possible to conjure food, and quite justifiable in such an extremity as this –"

"Now, my very attractive young animal," the headman leered at Touko, "are you going to tell me you girls didn't pick a lot of our plants for your cookpots last night?"

Touko's eyes widened a bit, but otherwise she kept her countenance well.

"Oh, no," said Youko, frowning at the headman, "she couldn't tell you that. They did. But we didn't understand the situation. If I issue a general order that we are not to pluck any more while we are here, that should do the trick."

"And you're not going to demand rice tribute?" This was a smaller man who sat behind the headman.

"No," said Youko. "We are only passing through, here. You are our hosts. We have no wish to make any such demand. It would be rude."

The Guild never demanded rice tribute of anyone, but Youko understood why they might be touchy on the subject. Fujiwara-dono had told her about a time a few years back when Fujiwara no Yukinaga had sent an envoy to Gawagawa to demand rice tribute in the name of the Emperor. A carefully crafted, lengthy missive, with just the right combination of bullying and flattery and threats... The envoy had gone out smooth and impermeable, with an escort of four hard, burly men, and had come back alone, a disheveled, demon-haunted man, with a four-word response from the headman:

"Come and take it."

And there the matter had rested.

"We appreciate that," the headman said kindly. "But the plants you have already taken are a problem. And there are the demons to consider. The bastards are always interested in anything new. A hundred girls and women in green robes camping in our east field for three days is unusual enough to draw their attention. So unless you can give the village any sort of remuneration that they'd find worth the risk, there's a chance I'll lose the argument even for one day of grace."

"I see." Youko thought fast. "Without consulting Fujiwara-dono, there's only one thing I can offer: if we had a chance to rest today, or the next few days, we were planning on conducting training. Both in basic magic and in swordplay. I'm sure many of your villagers are skilled in magic –" Youko knew that for a fact – "but if they think they might learn anything useful from us, we want them to feel free to attend. That's all I have, I'm afraid. – Very well, then." Youko rose. Touko followed suit.

The headman rose also, unfolding himself to his full majestic height while keeping his head level, and without using his hands to push himself up from the floor, his eyes on Youko and very alert, his smile unchanged. "You're not going to?..."

"We're going to have to negotiate something with _somebody_," Youko said, shaking her head. "If we leave here today or tomorrow, we'll have to go south; that's the only safe _and_ viable direction at the moment. And what with the lay of the land down that way, it would take us too far off course. No. If we can't negotiate with you, we'll have to negotiate with someone else." And without another word, she turned and walked out, hoping they would think about her words, and what they might mean...

Outside, Touko said, "With whom do we negotiate for _that_?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Touko's jaw dropped a little. "Really? We can do that?"

"It's possible." Youko frowned. "Whether it's plausible, I don't know."

"Are you going to do it, Mistress?" Touko straightened up. "If you need my help..."

"No. Thank you, Touko. If there's something else you want to do, you can feel free to go do it."

Touko's face had gone blank. "So you're going to do it alone?"

"No. No, I won't be undertaking it myself. When a really implausible task comes my way," Youko said, turning to go, "I always consult our Mistress of the Implausible."

* * *

The general mood around the camp was delicate. The young sorceresses were attempting to go about their daily business as usual, and for the most part succeeding, but everyone was thinking about what had happened yesterday, even if they weren't talking about it. Death at a young age was a fairly ordinary happening in the world they had grown up in, what with illness, and ghosts, and possession, and illnesses caused by possession, and ghosts. But such things were rarer in the closed world of the Guild; Fujiwara-dono was a champion exorcist, very firm with ghosts as well as demons, and could heal most illnesses with magic, and trained the young sorceresses in the healing arts. A death she couldn't prevent was a rarity.

Everywhere, there were quiet conversations. The rambunctious trio of Momoko, Madoka and Yuko for once were not together: each was with her mistress – though it was doubtful this would last long. While there were other minglings, it seemed to be agreed by most that this was a time for sorores to be with their mistresses. Most sorores, especially the younger ones, seemed to be seeking reassurance – my_ mistress didn't go anywhere. She's right here._

The Inner Circle, however, having Inner Circle business to discuss, had gone off and found themselves a quiet spot.

Their group was something diminished by the defection of Ayanokouji Kikuyo-san. Hikaru would never have admitted it to Kieko-san or Yukari-san, but she missed Kikuyo-san. Kieko-san and Yukari-san were all right, but they could get a bit fanciful, a bit divorced from the truth of the stones and trees behind the mists, preferring to play in the mist itself. And she could always count on Kikuyo-san to be sensible.

_Except at the last!..._

_"Why won't you help us? Really, Kikuyo-san, ever since we stayed at that cat-loving madwoman's house, you've been stranger and stranger –"_

_"Don't talk about Yamiko-sama that way," Kikuyo-san had said, turning her head swiftly to look into Hikaru's eyes. Her voice was soft and there was no particular emphasis in her look, but Hikaru nevertheless got a feeling that it would be unwise to say any more about the Cat Lady._

_"But why do you have to be so high and mighty all a-sudden? I thought you hated Satou Sei-sama the same as we did –"_

_"I'm still sorting out my feelings about things," Kikuyo had said, looking away again, "and maybe I can't give you an answer that would satisfy you. There are things about Satou-sama that drive me mad, though apparently her friends will say as much. But no, I don't think I hate her after all."_

_"Well, isn't that disappointing," Hikaru said. She was trying her best to sound nonchalant, but inside she was burning with anxiety. The one question she wanted to ask above all others was _Have you told Satou-sama what we're planning?_ She was conflicted between her need to know and her need not to seem to care._

_"I haven't told Satou-sama about your plan, yet," Kikuyo-san said, with a look that said, _I know you._ Hikaru ground her teeth. "I don't think I'm going to. I don't want to betray you. But also, I would just advise you to drop it."_

_"Why?" Hikaru went into her ready-to-deflect-all-argument stance._

_"It won't succeed."_

_"Why not?"_

_"You haven't the power."_

_Hikaru went silent. This was against the rules of the game. She drew some air in through her nostrils. Kikuyo-san looked at her, unperturbed._

_"I saw many things, in my strange dream, that night," Kikuyo-san went on. "Bits of Yamiko-sama's past, and much that was going on in the present, I now realize. I don't think most people know how lucky Yumi-san is to be alive... One thing I saw, and can never forget, is Satou-sama's true power. It is even greater than it seems to be. And I have the feeling that, even at that, I never saw more than half of it. This plan of yours, or most any plan you could come up with, amounts to little more than an admittedly novel way of committing suicide. I should advise you to abandon it."_

_Hikaru hadn't said anything to that. And Kikuyo-san had walked away._

She didn't think the friendship was over. She thought Kikuyo-san was leaving it up to her, whether she wanted to be friends, but was saying, _I won't be in your Inner Circle any longer. _At any rate, with her mistress having died suddenly the previous day, she wasn't likely to be an impediment to the plan.

Well._ Abandon my plan?_

If anything, Kikuyo-san had redoubled Hikaru's determination. _Maybe you don't know me _that _well._ The insult of the liana syrup had to be responded to. Satou-sama was a walking insult. All that Mountain Lily crowd were, but Satou-sama was the most blatant of them. _Punish her, punish all._ Economy. As far as saying Hikaru wasn't as powerful as Satou-sama... well, perhaps Kikuyo-san was right. Hikaru's original plan, conceived in a white heat while sitting at lunch at the Yamamoto shrine, would have to be abandoned – for one thing, Kikuyo-san knew about it, and for another, it was fundamentally unsound; it was a matter of attacking Satou-sama from four directions at once, and creating so many distractions for her that she would be confused, unable to retaliate properly. The more she thought about it, the surer she was that Satou-sama was too tricky to be taken that way. _Nevertheless._ She would prove that she could bring Satou-sama down.

It was a matter, not of dividing Satou-sama's power – too chancy, when you didn't know how much of it there was – but of altering the balance of power entirely.

On a temporary basis, of course.

(_But what comes after?_... the question drifted through her mind, but she ignored it. All would be well.)

Hikaru was holding court. She sat facing south, like the Emperor. Her loyal assistants of the Right and Left sat before her, facing north. "The question," she was telling Kieko-san, to her Left, "is _when_ to use the spell?"

"Hmmm," Yukari-san, the loyal assistant of the Right, said intelligently. "Difficult."

"It should be when Satou-sama has just finished doing something difficult," Kieko-san said. "I mean, it _might _work against her at full strength, it's just as well not to take any chances though..." She seemed worried that Hikaru might take offense.

"Understood," Hikaru said easily. "If she's distracted, a little tired, she'll be easier to take down... Mind you," she added, "it would give me a lot of satisfaction if I could bring her down when she was at full power. I wouldn't like her to be able to say 'it wasn't fair' afterward..."

"Then... she _will_ be able to say things, afterward?" Yukari-san wondered.

Kieko-san rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Yukari," she advised her friend. "The idea isn't to kill Satou-sama. Just... show her who's boss. Embarrass her a little."

Hikaru said nothing. She hadn't thought specifically about killing Satou-sama or letting her live. Only about defeating her. _What happens after?_ The thought came to her again, and she ignored it. The true order of things had to be reasserted, and there would be time for other things later.

"Where did you learn this spell, anyway, Hikaru-san?" Yukari-san asked. "Are you sure it will work? Have you tried it?"

"I've never tried it, but I'm pretty sure it will work. Suga-sama taught it to me."

Yukari-san gasped. Kieko-san whistled. "She taught you a spell like that?"

"Why, yes," Hikaru said calmly.

She didn't tell them that she had had to wheedle quite a bit to get the spell out of Suga-sama, that she doubted whether Suga-sama would have taught the spell to anyone else in the world below Snake-level except her, or that Suga-sama had insisted the spell could be extraordinarily dangerous if you weren't careful enough, and that Hikaru was only to use it as a desperate last resort, when all else had failed. But Hikaru didn't feel her friends really needed to know all that.

"The key thing now," she said, hearing excitement in her own voice, "is to choose our moment..."

* * *

Some distance away, Sadako sat watching them. Watching Mistress, really. She didn't care for Kieko-sama or Yukari-sama.

Mistress didn't seem to care for _her_ a lot, come to that. Mistress never wanted her around much. She wasn't unkind, as such. They shared a tent, but not a bedroll. It was cold at night, and Sadako would roll her bedroll up against Mistress's, for warmth. Mistress had rolled irritably away at first, but had given in after a few times with a groan, "If you _must_..."

She wouldn't let her sit with them, even if she stayed behind Kieko-sama and Yukari-sama and kept quiet. She was Mistress's famula, not her soror mystica. She had a feeling that when they got back to Heian Kyo, Mistress would cut her loose again. She would have served her purpose.

But, until then, this was all she had, and all she was. So she would continue to watch Oe-sama, her mistress. Her neglectful, distant, fascinating, beautiful... _unconscious _mistress.

* * *

Todo Shimako, too, had found a place where she could be alone, at the edge of the Scar.

The Scar had apparently been inflicted upon the land many ages ago by a thing called The Great Visitation. What the Scar amounted to was a long, scoop-shaped valley between two mountains. With many trees and bushes, and much of it having been cleared for the farming of rice and barley, it looked pleasant enough, really much like any other mountain valley Shimako had ever seen, if somewhat longer, deeper, and less rocky.

It was only when you saw it from the air, as Shimako had on a scouting assignment the day before, that you saw how out-of-place it was. It occurred, not simply between the two mountains visible from where she sat, but as a large, unlikely gash, a break in a mountain range otherwise noteworthy for its - if not seamlessness, because that was a stupid word to use of mountains, then for the narrowness of what seams it had.

Shimako wondered what had really happened here. The story as it had been told to her sounded highly mythological. Shimako knew there was truth in myths, but she also knew from Fujiwara-dono, and from her own studies of magic, that people told simple stories of events that could be simply understood, and tended to resort to mythology when relating events that they could not understand or explain. She wondered what this place had looked like before the event, whether it was three mountains that had been obliterated by the Visitation, as the tale said, or only two – from the air, judging by the relative size of the adjoining mountains, she'd've thought that even two would be a tight squeeze. She wondered what had happened to them, and wondered also: if she could have seen what had happened, would _she _be able to explain it?... Or would she have to resort to mythology?

Her mind was wandering, because it didn't want to look at more urgent matters than this eons-old disaster rendered sweetly idyllic by the passage of time. Sei was the most inexplicable event in Shimako's own life, and one she had often had to resort to mythology to understand, and she wanted a fresh perspective – on Sei, and on her own circumstances, her study of healing, and the problem of death – and she only wished it was as simple as turning herself into a bird, taking wing and _finding_ one...

"Share your rock?"

Shimako turned her upper body to look behind her. There, blinking in the aggressive morning sun, was Nijo Noriko-chan.

Shimako had wanted to be alone, had wanted it very firmly, but she found herself wavering at the thought of having Noriko-chan be the one to break her solitude. Noriko-chan had always appealed to her, since she had turned up in the Guild a few months earlier – she was sweetly attractive, certainly, and that did her no harm in Shimako's eyes, but she was also a steady, sensible person, and a just one. And she seemed to look up to Shimako, though Shimako couldn't have guessed why, and she was... well...

"Please do," Shimako smiled, patting the boulder.

Noriko-chan was beside her. The sun was warm – spring had come in earnest. The breeze was gentle. Peace reigned. It was very nearly a perfect moment, looked at from the outside –

"Share your thoughts?" Noriko-chan said.

– but Shimako was trapped on the inside, of course.

She looked at Noriko-chan. The girl was giving her a kind, encouraging smile – _I want to hear anything you want to tell me,_ the smile seemed to say, _but we can also just sit here in silence if you prefer that._

"I wish I had anything that was organized enough to dignify with the name of 'thoughts'," Shimako sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not as bad as that sounds, Shimako-san," Noriko-chan said. "If you'd rather not talk about it with me –"

"I want to talk about it," Shimako said. She was surprised to discover that this was true. "I just don't know if I have anything coherent to say about it..."

"It's about Satou-sama, right?"

Shimako looked at Noriko-chan, and thought again how pleasing was the shape of her face, and felt surprise. "How did you? –"

Noriko-chan inclined her head at Shimako, staring at her from under raised brows. Shimako blushed a little. "Well," she said, "it's not as if Sei is the only thing I could be worried about..."

"True," Noriko-chan said. "Worrying things have happened lately. But Satou-sama is one of our most powerful sorceresses – perhaps second only to Fujiwara-dono – and many of us depend on her, one way and another. And I think, though I am a mere Rat, that there is talk of her assuming Guild leadership one day, which – given that she is a foreigner – and her general air of unreliability – and the inadvisability of being alone with her if you happen to be cute – is a testament to her powers, and to her utter _reliability_ when dangers arise. But now, lately, almost since we left the Capital, she has been behaving in an increasingly erratic manner, and erraticness – erraticism? - of a strong enough flavor to get itself noticed in someone like Satou-sama is erratical indeed, and you are her soror mystica, and very attached to her as we all know –"

"Have you been deputed to come and talk to me?" Shimako asked coolly. She liked Noriko-chan very much, but if this was some sort of general scheme –

"Pardon?"

"On whose account are you here?" Shimako asked.

"On yours," Noriko-chan said.

She did not hesitate. And she looked right in Shimako's eyes as she said it.

Shimako looked into her lap.

"I'm no one important, I know –" Noriko-chan began.

"That's not true." Shimako looked back up at Noriko-chan, very firmly.

"It is, though, Shimako-san. I'm only a Rat. No-one takes me seriously except Rei-sama." Noriko-chan smiled. "I'm not sure I _want _to be anyone important. The important people all seem to have big important things to worry about, things miles wide and long so that you can never see them one end to the other in a glance. All I see is you."

Noriko-chan blushed faintly as she said this last part, and looked down herself.

There was a deep silence.

_Cherry blossom time is past,_ Shimako thought. _What a pity. That declaration needed a gentle breeze, and cherry petals in its train._

She touched Noriko-chan's hand gently. "I take you seriously," she said.

Noriko-chan looked up.

"Sei is erratic –" Shimako sighed – "or _more _erratic, not since we left Heian Kyo, but since we left Yamiko-sama's. It was something that happened there, I feel almost certain."

"A lot of things seem to have happened there. Most of them while the rest of us were asleep, as I recall. Do you think Yamiko-sama did something to her?"

"I don't know, but no, that's not what I think."

"Then what do you think? Please, Shimako-san..."

Shimako paused, collecting her thoughts. This was difficult. She'd never really talked with anyone about this part before. "There was a girl, before me."

Noriko waited.

"There was a girl I reminded Sei of, which was why she made me her soror mystica, in the end – or not the whole reason, but the starting-point. A girl who was very important to her. Or they were very important to each other. Sei doesn't talk about her easily."

"What happened with that girl?"

"I don't know."

"Satou-sama hasn't told you?"

"No."

"You are her soror mystica." Noriko-chan's tone was neutral as she made this observation.

"Yes."

"Don't you think you have a right to know? And might it not be something you _should_ know?"

"I suppose... I didn't like to insist... and anyway, it's over. The girl's name was Shiori-san. She was like me in some way. And she's gone now, apparently never to return, and that's all I know about it."

Noriko-chan looked disbelieving, so Shimako added "Maybe that's all I _want_ to know. Like you not wanting to know about the great big important things?"

Noriko-chan seemed much struck by this, but said nothing. She was listening to Shimako with a whole-souled intentness that drew Shimako further and further out of her silence – "She, Sei, is, well, she's lively, and fun – and I never really knew what fun was until I knew her – my father's idea of fun could be so embarrassing sometimes – and you're never sure what Sei's going to do. A loving clown. Life is all frolic. And the mention of this girl is the one thing that can bring pain into her eyes... I hate to see pain in her eyes. I would almost rather live in ignorance perpetual of who Shiori-san was, and what she did, no matter the consequences of my ignorance, rather than force Sei to discuss a subject that does that to her. All raw, defenseless, easy to hurt... it's _wrong _for her, not how she should be..."

Now Noriko-chan touched Shimako's hand. "Does it hurt you, to talk about this?"

Shimako felt tears stinging, blinked them away. "Why did she choose me? If I only remind her of someone she should forget –"

Noriko-chan had taken Shimako's hand. Noriko-chan was sitting very close to Shimako. Shimako didn't think she was about to cry, but she needed... She leant her head on Noriko-chan's shoulder. Noriko-chan put an arm around her.

"The way Sei is now..." Shimako squeezed Noriko-chan's hand, and felt her squeeze back, and felt strength there... "it's like someone is whispering Shiori-san's name in her ear over and over and over, even when there's no one with her. I wondered..."

"Yes?"

"I wondered if maybe it was Shiori-san doing the whispering..."

* * *

Sei sat in a lonely tree by the path coming down from the lush green mountains, at the outskirts of the village of Gawagawa. She was drinking sake, and dreaming of the past.

The past had been much on her mind, since they had left Yamiko-san's place. There, the past had returned, unexpectedly, and had made it clear that it would not come again. Not in any desirable form. Sei ordinarily had no hankering for the past – she had an awful lot of past, for anyone her age, and much of it was, if not actively unpleasant, then at least the sort that is better gone – but this was Shiori. _The only Shiori there will ever be in the world._ Was that all there would ever be for Sei? All of... whatever Shiori had brought with her? A wholeness, a joy, a magic, which was to Sei's magic much as Sei's magic was to days of cow-milking and butter-churning and sheep-tending. It seemed that, without Shiori, all Sei had left was a certain deftness, a nose for pleasure, and a knack for getting nice girls to give her opportunities for testing it... _Is that _all_, then? You poor, poor thing. Such a hard life you lead._ She smiled a very dry smile at her own dry sarcasm, and drank a little more sake to wet it down a bit.

She had spent some time looking for Shiori, back then. It had been well nigh an impossible task. She only knew that Shiori had disappeared somewhere between the Guild offices at Sanjo and the torii of Yogawa, and that wasn't a lot to go on. She had done much legwork, questioning people as to whether they might have seen this girl or spoken with her, describing her for them and trying not to burst into tears as she did so. But to no avail; Shiori seemed to have turned into mist and disappeared. Sei gave up after a few months, and moped around for a while, until Youko brought Sachiko to the inn and asked Sei to look after her.

Sachiko was a fairly absorbing person to look after. And they had had some amusing times together, she and Sachiko and Eriko and Rei and Yoshino, at the Mountain Lily Inn. Nevertheless, Sei had continued to keep an eye out for Shiori, hoping against hope that the girl might still be alive somewhere.

But meeting the Ghost at Yamiko-san's place had now put paid to that idea for good and all. Shiori was gone. She had most likely died a lonely, terrified death somewhere on the road to Yogawa, and there was no blinking it away.

Sei was thinking about that, and about how it had been she who had driven Shiori away from the Guild in the first place. She also thought that if she had lit right out after Shiori as soon as she'd known the girl was gone, instead of listening to Youko's you-must-respect-her-wishes talk – _well, it's certainly not fair to blame _Youko_, my old vengeful firebrand, she would have been absolutely right in nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a million, and just because this happened to be the bad case is not Youko's fault, is nothing anyone could have foreseen. No. It's _your _fault. You were the one who was so destroyed by Shiori leaving without a word, you were the one whose faith in your love was absolute until it looked as if her faith might not be, and suddenly you were full of doubt and uncertainty. If you'd had more faith _–_ if you'd shown more vigor in the chase _–_ if you'd discussed her doubts with her a little more sensibly than you did _–_ if, in fact, you'd been able to act and feel as almost anyone other than yourself _–_ IF IF IF _–_ she might still be alive._ "Much virtue in _if_," she muttered aloud, downing more sake.

... where had she gotten sake, in the middle of the wilderness? Oh, she had her ways...

She wondered where Shiori's bones were. She knew the Ghost would have left the corpse behind, after draining her essence. _Did she just dump Shiori's beautiful, cold little body by the side of the road somewhere?... What were Shiori's last moments like?... Maybe the Ghost took her peacefully, subtly, silently, in her sleep, the way she took Ren-san. Or maybe she took her the way she tried to take Youko, and certainly would have, if I hadn't been there. Maybe... maybe Shiori _cried out for me_ at the end, the way Youko did, the way Katsuko did when she was stabbed. And probably there was no one there to hear her but fireflies. The night was not listening. I was not listening; I was miles away. I was there for Youko, I was there for Katsuko, why couldn't I be there for Shiori?_ And the way Ren-san had cried out to Yamiko-san at the end, except it wasn't Ren-san anymore, and Yamiko-san had had to deny her – deny this THING that looked and sounded exactly like her beloved – and Sei had denied Shiori, _I was sitting in comfort somewhere, probably drinking sake, when the girl I loved more than my life died a bad scary death at the side of the road, having the juice squeezed out of her by that _–

"Enough."

Sei looked down.

There, at the foot of the tree, stood Youko. She had that angry, concerned look on her face which Sei had found increasingly annoying lately. "Enough what?" Sei asked her.

"Whatever you're doing," Youko said. "I couldn't tell just what it was, but you were hurting yourself. You shouldn't do that."

Sei looked dimly at her friend, her at-the-moment-more-annoying-than-usual friend. _Like any moment she's going to offer me a cup of tea and an extra cloak _–

_She's concerned about you because you have been giving her cause for concern _–

Sei shook her head. If she had to be honest with herself, that didn't mean she had to listen.

In an experimental spirit, she jumped out of the tree. She wasn't sure how this would turn out –

The drink hadn't blurred her reflexes enough to cause any problems, it seemed. _I'll have to do a more thorough job next time._ One hand automatically caught the lowest bough, and she swung on it, and landed in front of Youko with a splay-footed grace, a clumsiness which she managed to turn into a splendid bow.

Youko had shifted, her arms looking like they were going to move, and then went still again. That was another thing about Youko, lately: she didn't seem to know what to do with her own body. _She was going to steady me, if I needed it. She was going to _catch_ me. She really does want to just wrap me up warm and give me some tea._ Sei's irritation increased.

"What do you know about what I should and shouldn't do?" she inquired of Youko softly. "You seem to think you can take command of anything, including my innermost self. What about the parts of it that have nothing to do with you, and which you have never touched? Should even those be open to your inspection?"

"I may not know everything about you," Youko said steadily, "but don't ever try to tell me I don't know _you_."

"Sometimes, that's a comfort," Sei said, "but maybe I don't want to be _known _every moment of every day."

"Sei, if you're hurting yourself, I can't just stand by and not say anything. You're hurting someone who..."

"Oh, spare me." Sei turned away. She didn't need this, of all things; she was almost ready to walk off into the northern forest, and keep walking and never look back, rather than endure another moment of it. _The forest is _that_ way,_ the part of her mind she wouldn't listen to remarked obligingly, indicating the treeline some distance away, but Sei wouldn't listen to it. "You mother me out of my mind sometimes," she said to the other person she didn't want to listen to, without looking at her. "This is something you can't help me with. It's something I can't seem to fix, and I am obliged to suffer with it. Maybe you'll just have to suffer with me."

"Can you tell me what it is, so I know why I'm suffering? It's to do with Shiori, isn't it?"

Sei turned back to stare at Youko.

Seeing that stare, which seemed to come from another world, Youko had the sudden feeling that she really didn't know Sei at all. It passed quickly enough. _Even when I didn't know much, I knew _you._ And I always will._ She pressed her advantage. "That was not difficult to divine. Usually, when something is really wrong with you, it's to do with Shiori. And I know you've been thinking about her since we left Yamiko-sama's."

In a voice that came from the same distant, frozen world as the stare (a voice Toshi the Rat would have recognized easily), Sei asked her erstwhile friend, "Is there something Guild-related you wanted to talk to me about?"

Youko was silent for a moment, and then just said, "Yes."

"So can we drop this now and move on to that?"

"Sei..." Youko stepped right up to Sei and put a hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head slightly up to look Sei in the eyes. "Please don't shut me out like this."

Sei was still. Youko usually didn't come this close to her. It made her very aware of Youko, in a way she found uncomfortable suddenly.

"We share a bond. You remember. You are always in my mind, and I am always in yours, if only a little. When you hurt yourself, it hurts me. I don't own you, I can't command you, not any part of you. I've no wish to. If I could command you, you wouldn't be _you_. I only want..."

Sei moved away from her. She sat at the foot of the tree she'd been sitting in, leaning back against the trunk.

Youko stood there, her hand still out, resting on the shoulder that was no longer there. She was looking at Sei uncertainly.

"Sit down," Sei said.

Youko came and sat down next to her. She did not touch her.

They just sat there quietly for a little while.

"Something's bothering you too," Sei said.

Youko looked at her, startled.

"It cuts both ways, you know," Sei said. "Of course it does. If you do feel my pain, I can certainly feel your loneliness. And I'm not so mired in my own troubles that I can't see you've troubles of your own." Sei was already feeling a little better. _You were drinking sake and punishing yourself, and Youko stopped you. That's really what it comes down to, isn't it? It would take a fool to resent Youko for that._ "You tell me about yours, and I'll tell you about mine. Yours are probably more urgent anyway..."

"Yes," Youko said. She was staring longingly at the treeline for some reason, as if she had Sei's own momentary desire to just walk into the trees and lose herself in them. "You've put your finger on it. I'm lonely, Sei. There are things that need doing. There's a journey to arrange, and a Guild full of people to supervise, and I'm doing it all alone. Fujiwara-dono is unavailable. You're unavailable. We've run up against a ridiculous barrier, and we need to magic a way around it, and I'm the only one who's working on it."

"I thought you were going to tell me about something more personal." Sei was annoyed again, but she was amused as well. She felt an urge to swat Youko not very hard with something that wouldn't injure her.

Youko looked at her almost innocently, the trees suddenly forgotten. "Well, you did ask if there was a Guild-related matter I needed to talk to you about, and there is. It's a very difficult situation, and I'm dealing with it alone. Lately, I'm dealing with most things alone – oh, Eriko's good for a helping hand, but right now she's got a class to prepare. And this is more in your line of country anyway."

Sei sighed. "I'm here and you have me. What's it about?"

"Well, I thought we might draw on your penchant for talking to gods."

* * *

After they had sweated with the _bokken_ for a reasonable period, Rei called a break. Some of her students sat in ones and twos to talk to one another, while others flopped wearily on the grass. Rei smiled, and walked around the hill a little, where she had sent Rikki to coach the rank beginners.

There were three of these – two novice sorceresses, and one small, unfamiliar-looking person, whose manner of dress said "villager" to Rei. Of the two Rats, one looked like she might shape up well – tall, strong, gracefully athletic – while the other looked unpromising – scrawny, uncoordinated – but Rei's intuitions at this stage were not always to be trusted. More depended on the student's attitude toward the sword, and you couldn't tell how that would develop over time. Physical shortcomings could be overcome to a surprising extent, and physical advantages were of little account if the student did not apply herself.

Rikki understood that. This was her first time teaching beginners, and Rei was pleased to observe that the girl had a knack for it. She was taciturn as always, but she taught well by example, and she was actually speaking up more. This was very gratifying.

Rikki had finished leading the three through a simple kata, and had corrected minor deficiencies in their posture, before she looked up at Rei. "Very good," Rei said. "I've ordered a break. It's probably a good time for a meal, so feel free to take time to eat."

The two Rats bowed – they bowed first to Rikki – and then went together to look for a place to sit. They were talking to one another as they went, a bit shyly.

Rei said, "Were they friends before the lesson?"

"Not that I noticed," Rikki said. She looked up at Rei with a lonely, uncertain look. "Was it really good?"

Rei smiled. Something about being Eriko-sama's soror was definitely working in Rikki's favor; half a month and she was already more open, more approachable, readier to speak above a whisper, without losing any of her former strengths: her skill, her reliability. "I wasn't here the whole time, but what I saw was. You're patient with them, and you have a discerning eye. I'll try to make an opportunity to be present for a full session soon, and I can give you more detailed remarks."

"I'm surprised that I could do it," Rikki said. Then she paused and looked away. Then she said, "I was surprised when you asked me to. Surprised I could even get a word out."

"Would you like to have lunch with me and Noriko?"

Rikki looked startled, and then nodded shyly.

Rei looked over at the villager student, who was talking quietly with a weatherbeaten man with sad eyes. "Who is the exchange student?" she quipped.

"That's Haru-chan," Rikki said. "She's local."

"How'd she do?"

"Very bright, picked things up fast. Her friend there appears to know some sword already, but he just sat still and watched. Not many interruptions. He annoyed me at first."

"Rikki-chan, you have to be more tolerant. I know it's hard sometimes."

"I wanted to tell him to go away," Rikki admitted, her voice low and quiet, "because his staring was driving me out of my mind, but you said to accommodate the villagers as much as possible, so I let him be, and I got used to him. He's all right, really."

"Good. Well done, Rikki." She saluted the two villagers. "How do you do," she said, raising her voice. "Would you care to join us for lunch?"

She was greeted with a solemn, almost empty look from Haru-chan, and a sad, considering one from the man.

Soon, the rather odd little party were seated on the slope, not far from where Takagi Tsukasa – one of Rei's best students – was having lunch with Youko-sama's soror – Sachiko's little cousin, there, what-was-her-name – Touko-chan. The two seemed very well together. Rei hadn't known they were friends.

Her own little group, by contrast, were having conversational difficulties. Noriko and Rikki-chan were fine; Noriko was Rikki-chan's friend, as much as Rikki-chan had ever allowed anyone to be her friend. Noriko knew Rikki-chan needed humoring and patience, when it came to a group conversation. And Rei got on well with both of them. Rikki-chan was helping Noriko serve out portions of the lunch she had been busy preparing over a little fire some distance away.

The two villagers, Haru-chan and the man, who was called Taro, Rei learned, were... well, they weren't outright hostile. Rei would have had a better idea how to deal, if that were all. But they were slow to speak, and they gave little away. They were not rude. Their manners, eating the food Noriko had prepared, were not those of Heian Kyo, but Rei was traveled enough not to be put off by that. Noriko was a bit more taken aback, especially by the way they ate – which, without being untidy, was exceedingly rapid – but Noriko followed Rei's lead well; if Rei did not show astonishment, Noriko would not... _Noriko needs her own mistress,_ Rei thought, troubled. _There needs to be someone really good I can entrust her to. She deserves it. We'll be back in the Capital eventually, and then it's me and Yoshino again._

_Yoshino..._

Rei shook her head, and forced herself to return to the situation at hand.

_When in doubt, be simple,_ she thought. "Did you enjoy the lesson?" she asked Haru-chan.

Haru-chan showed more animation. "Yes," Haru said, eyes shining. "I've learned a little sword from Taro-san –"

"I'm best with a bludgeon," Taro-san observed, suddenly.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, considering that. He had a bludgeon, in fact, attached to his belt, lying out behind him on the grass.

"But with you, it's – it's all shiny – quick – clever –" Haru-chan seemed a bit at a loss, but the enthusiasm behind her words was unmistakable.

Rei said, "We think of it as an art, like magic. And as wisdom. Like magic. But Taro-san here looks as if he's been in a lot of fights –"

"My share." Quick. Terse. Uncooked, unseasoned, unsauced.

"– and he can tell you, I'm sure," Rei continued, without a stumble, "that when a real fight starts, a lot of the art and science can go out the window, and you're just hoping to live to see the sun rise."

"A magicker too," Taro-san burst out again.

"Are you?" Noriko asked curiously.

"Not like you," he added – perhaps a touch belligerently. "No books. Can't read. Just learned."

Rei knew the story of this village, though this was her first visit. "If your knowledge keeps you and the other villagers alive, then it is worthy," she said, "of the greatest respect."

He just stared at her.

"I don't know any magic, yet," Haru-chan said. "I'd like to learn. The Madman thinks I have power. But he says I'm too young to learn it still."

"Who's 'the Madman'?" Noriko asked curiously.

"Tall man. Painted." Taro-san grumbled. "Not right in the head. Our leader."

Here, Rei was a bit stuck. She was of a mind to suggest that Haru talk to Fujiwara-dono; whenever she ran across girls and young women who seemed to have talent, she took this course, and given that Haru seemed to have the power of advance knowing, there was a likelihood of talent.

But she was not sure whether Haru was female or male, and she wasn't sure if a direct question on the subject would be well-received. If Haru was male, he was of course ineligible...

_Fujiwara-dono will know,_ she thought.

And so she held her tongue.

Tsukasa and her friend Touko had been bothering Rei for some time; her eyes had been occasionally drawn to them while the party had been eating and talking. The two appeared to be at odds with one another. There even seemed to be some weeping going on... Rei didn't like to interfere between two people, but Tsukasa was important to her as an assistant, and she was aware that this Touko was a bit unfriended – she was Youko-sama's soror mystica, and Rei felt a responsibility toward her. Rei felt an unseemly curiosity, a wish to know what they were saying to each other...

* * *

When Takagi Tsukasa wearily laid aside her bokken, and had just thought about what she would do for something to eat, she found that Matsudaira Touko had been seated on the slope watching her, she didn't know for how long.

To see Touko looking at her excited all sorts of feelings – resentment was a familiar one, and there were some other nasty ones keeping company with it, but mainly what she felt was pleasure. And that was mainly what Touko's acquaintance had been to her overall...

She walked up to her. "Hello, stranger," she said, a bit self-consciously. "How nice of you to drop by. We do sword here."

Touko, for her part, felt pleasure seeing Takagi Tsukasa-sama – mostly pleasure, though there was also worry and guilt mixed in. The worry and guilt had been forgotten while she had watched the taller, economically-robed girl practicing with her bokken, her movements strong, graceful, unerring. She had previously admired Tsukasa-sama's consummate artistry in other fields, but this was her first experience of her sempai as a swordhand. She had never thought of the sword as her own area, and had never attended one of Hasekura-sama's classes before. She had felt some stirring interest in the sword, for the first time.

"It's a pleasure to watch you, Tsukasa-sama," she said. "Like a dance where you know all the steps, even when Hasekura-sama alters the routine in the middle."

Tsukasa was still recovering from _it's a pleasure to watch you_ but managed to say, with some semblance of composure, "That's the whole point of practicing the basic moves over and over, and being able to change from one to the other at a moment's notice. Your real-life opponent will change the routine on you, and introduce a completely new routine, and you have to be ready when that happens. Rei-san has been especially hot on that lately, for some reason. Some brawl she got in not long before we left town brought it home to her, she says."

"The General was _brawling?_" Touko was horrified.

"If you carry a sword," Tsukasa sighed, "then eventually fights come to you. You don't even have to go looking for them."

Touko shuddered a bit, but then cheered up. "I made you lunch," she said, holding up an expensive-looking box. "I cooked it myself, over a little fire. I'm getting the hang of living rough, you see."

Touko frowned a little. She didn't know why she'd said that. It was almost calculated to antagonize Tsukasa-sama.

Tsukasa did feel a bit annoyed, but she saw Touko clearly wishing she could withdraw what she'd just said, she saw how appealing Touko was, she saw it was a lovely day, and she thought, _Tsukasa, she made you lunch. Don't become gloomy and recriminatory. Give her a chance._

They sat there together, on that same slope, and ate together.

"This fish is fresh," Tsukasa marveled.

"I caught it myself, in the eastern river. Rainbow trout. I think the spices I used worked well, luckily, because they were what I had. Do you have enough rice? – What's so funny?"

Touko looked annoyed, and maybe a little hurt, and Tsukasa quickly said, "I'm not really laughing at you, Touko-chan, it's just... you _are_ getting the hang of living rough. You're doing it very well. And you're cooking the most up-to-date gourmet meals I've ever seen done over an open fire. I wasn't expecting to taste dumplings again until we got back to the Capital. You're wonderful, Touko-chan."

Touko looked away, her face a bit flushed.

There was a pause. They ate on.

"I thought you might still be mad at me," Touko said quietly.

"I am, a little," Tsukasa said. She looked fondly at Touko, her talented, beautiful friend.

"You don't seem mad."

"What's done is done. I wish you'd chosen me, but you chose Youko-sama. An excellent choice. She's a great sorceress, and a fine teacher for you."

_But she doesn't talk to me much, and she spends a lot of time on her own,_ Touko couldn't say. _She does teach me, but being with you makes me feel more – more _accompanied_ than I've felt, ever, with her,_ she also couldn't say.

_I think I made a mistake_ was the thing Touko found, above all, impossible to say.

"Is your choice adequate?" was a question Touko found it possible to ask. "How is Momoko-san as a soror?"

Tsukasa-sama looked a bit startled. "Oh, she's just fine," she drawled. "Nice girl. Drives me a bit mad, sometimes. But if I hadn't taken her on, she'd've had to stay in the Capital, and she'd've been separated from Yuko and Madoka, and obviously we couldn't have that. She's very dutiful, and I'm fond of her..."

Tsukasa stopped herself. She was talking impulsively, without considering. She looked Touko... Touko... in the eye. She saw uncertainty, guilt... a desire to please, and she felt in herself all the anger and bitterness she had felt since she'd heard of Touko's choice simply falling away, leaving only the hidden burning. _Maybe not well enough hidden,_ she thought. _I think Touko saw it, and I think that's why she chose as she did._ This thought was not a happy one, but she was better off acknowledging the truth, wasn't she?...

Still holding Touko's eyes with hers, she said, "She is no Touko. No-one else will ever be Touko."

It was the first time Tsukasa-sama had ever used her name without an honorific. Touko felt her face flaming. She'd had an idea Tsukasa-sama felt strongly about her, but the look in her eyes was a confirmation of everything suspected and more besides. She was uncomfortable. She hated to be embarrassed, and she hated knowing that her feelings were showing, but she couldn't stop looking at Tsukasa-sama, who was only smiling at her now, without speaking.

"I wish you'd said that before," she said.

"Would you have chosen differently?"

"I wanted –"

"What did you want?"

Touko sighed, and now she looked down. She couldn't look at Tsukasa-sama. "I wanted to be closer to Sachiko-sama."

"Your cousin," Tsukasa-sama said. This had not come as a shock to her.

"I was disappointed when she chose someone else," Touko said, "and Youko-sama needed a soror for the journey. I admired – admire – you very much, but I – I don't want to hurt you." That same smile. Was Tsukasa-sama hiding behind that smile? "I don't want to hurt you, but I didn't even consider you seriously until it was too late."

That had compromised Tsukasa-sama's smile somewhat, but had not banished it entire. "I was pretty clear, wasn't I, when I asked you? Did you think I was playing a game? Did you think I didn't really want you for my soror mystica?"

"Things weren't going the way they were supposed to go!" Touko burst out. "I was trying to make them go back the way they were supposed to, and –" She stopped.

"And they just kept going wronger and wronger," Tsukasa supplied.

Touko nodded miserably.

Neither of them said anything for a little. Tsukasa finished her fish.

"That was delicious," she said.

Touko didn't speak. She was still looking at her unfinished food. Her eyes were wet.

"Touko, you can count on me for anything."

Touko looked up at her, startled.

"My feelings don't change," Tsukasa elaborated. "Yes, you've hurt me. Yes, I wish you had chosen me, and not gone trying to get back in your cousin's orbit. She's awfully particular about who she spends time with, isn't she? Hadn't you better let her decide whether she wants you around, since it's going to be up to her anyway? But never mind that now. You are Mizuno-sama's soror, and I am Minamoto Momoko-chan's mistress. Nevertheless." Tsukasa's own throat felt full. She shook her head. "Let me be whatever I can be to you. Let me be near you sometimes. I don't ask any more than that. Just, let's have lunch sometimes and you can make fun of my deportment. If that's all we have, let it be enough."

Touko was not crying. She was making herself not cry. She struggled to finish her meal, although the food stuck in her throat. How had she made such a mess of things? How? –

"Excuse me," said a voice.

Touko and Tsukasa-sama both looked up. Nijo Noriko-san stood there, bowing to them both.

"I beg your pardon for disturbing you," she said. "But Hasekura Rei-sama and I wondered if the two of you would care to join us. If you prefer to keep only your own company, say so, and we will leave you be."

Touko looked at Tsukasa-sama through stubborn tears, and Tsukasa-sama looked back.

"Maybe that's best," Tsukasa-sama said at last. "We're almost done eating, and we're probably done talking. Touko?..."


	16. At the Crossing of the Paths, part 2

Part two.

* * *

Nanashi Mayuko left the Guild Offices, and walked east along Third Street, heading back home...

It was strange, how quickly the Mountain Lily Inn had come to seem like home to her. Impertinent of her, perhaps. Or just pointless – she doubted she'd be very welcome there, in the pleasant second-floor suite, when its usual occupants returned from Questioning. Though she felt sure Yoshino-san would invite her back for a visit, now and then... tea, perhaps... Mayuko had learned about tea from Yoshino-san, and found it very pleasing. And Yoshino-san didn't talk about it much, but she was clearly lonely for her friends, and tea and conversation eased her loneliness a little.

Mayuko's visit to the Guild Offices had not been an enjoyable one, so she was looking forward to making some tea when she got home, and drinking a cup with Yoshino-san. Just the thing to soothe the wounded spirits...

She had to go see Suga-sama every few days, to check in with her. Suga-sama understood that Mayuko was on detached duty and had to spend most of her time with Yoshino-san, but Suga-sama was in charge of the remnant of the Guild that had stayed behind, and she insisted on keeping tabs on everybody. Suga-sama had listened to Mayuko's report – "nothing to report", essentially – with no trace of pleasure, and had asked Mayuko a whole string of disagreeable questions, each of which had a tendency to turn into a lecture of its own. Yes, she knew what Fujiwara-dono had said, but Shimazu-kun would do very well at the Guild Offices, wouldn't she? If Suga-sama put her skills to it, she was sure she could get Shimazu-kun back here without injuring her. Then everyone would be under one roof, and that would be for the best, surely? Yes, she knew what Fujiwara-dono had said. They would abide by the present arrangement. Only it was a little frustrating. There had been a demonstration only the other day, hadn't she heard? Nanashi-kun had really better get her head out of the sand. The blood-drinking monks of Mt. Hiei were very unhappy. They had come down from their mountain, bearing some sacred tablets and some sort of blithering grievance against Kiyomizu Temple. They had been placated, but only just, and they held a grudge against the throne for not taking their side more completely, and for what they saw as its usurpation of divine authority. There was _unrest_, was the point Suga-sama was making, and it was possible for her to extend some protection to them at their cozy little inn, but difficult; it required her to divide her energies, and she had to do enough of that as it was.

Mayuko, as on the previous occasions when Suga-sama had brought this up, had stuck to the line that these were Fujiwara-dono's orders, and as a healer Mayuko couldn't answer for Yoshino-san's condition if she were moved at this juncture. In fact, she was fairly sure Yoshino-san would be all right, if it came to her really having to be moved. Suga-sama, she felt, had paid only limited attention to the arrangements made about Yoshino-san, and had likely missed the point that Fujiwara-dono had only thought Yoshino-san would be more comfortable in her own home. Mayuko felt very low for deceiving Suga-sama in this way – or rather, for allowing Suga-sama to deceive herself – but she didn't want to leave the Mountain Lily Inn, and she knew Yoshino-san wouldn't want to either.

She felt sorry for the other girls. There were three Rats in the dormitory who had just joined the Guild in the weeks before the Questioning departed, and who hadn't been able to get mistresses – they were going to have to wait until a few of the current sorores were ready to be mistresses. She had just got done visiting them. They had been very pleased to see her, for she had interrupted their cleaning duties in order to bring them snacks she had made – she had got in the habit of bringing them rice and honey cakes and such whenever she had to visit the Guild offices – the poor girls had no friends in the Guild as yet, everyone else was out of town, their families had likely washed their hands of them – the old, old story – and Suga-sama would see that they were warm and fed, but would make them little cheer. Akira-chan, and Kirala-chan, and Juri-chan. Nice girls. They had been shy at first (they had not been in the Guild long enough to know how useless Mayuko was, and thought her a great sorceress, which made her smile and also made her a bit sad) but they had warmed to her, and seemed now to regard her as a combination of trusted elder and friend. Mayuko hadn't had any orders from Fujiwara-dono about them, but she had an idea that Fujiwara-dono would have wanted her to give them what help she could.

Juri-chan, the most talkative of them, had just now been asking her, in a hoarse whisper, "Why is Suga-sama _like_ this, Mayuko-sama? I understand why we have to sweep the offices every day, but we also have to scrub out the refectory, and the kitchen, and the privies. We're the only ones using them, and we don't get them _that_ dirty, in one day. I've been scolded three times so far for the same stain, and I would swear it's been there for years." Akira-chan and Kirala-chan agreed indistinctly, for they were munching on honey-cakes. "Really, why is she so _horrid_? Do you know, Mayuko-sama?"

Suga-sama was just like that, or talking to her was. Mayuko was as mystified as the girls; it wasn't unheard-of for people to be how they were because of temperament, and for no other obvious reason, but she had the feeling that something in Suga-sama's past must have made her like that, and wondered what it was. Mayuko had never met anyone in her life who seemed to throb so with pain, to be imprisoned in pain, as Suga-sama. And Suga-sama didn't like Mayuko and never had, and made no secret of her dislike, so she was always sharing her pain – the one thing she was generous with, Mayuko thought. Mayuko, a healer, was daunted by a wound that was beyond her healing.

Hikaru-sama had told her once, "It's not so bad to be hated; it's much worse to be ignored." But Mayuko couldn't see that at all. Being ignored didn't hurt that much; in fact, it usually came as a relief. She would be happy if Kieko-san and Yukari-san would ignore her more often; to be noticed by them was the hurtful thing... Akira-chan, Juri-chan and Kirala-chan had been mournful when Mayuko had told them she had to go, but pathetically grateful to her for having stopped by to see them. Mayuko was pleased to have been able to lift their spirits for a few minutes, but she wished she could do more. She wished she could bring them back to the inn and make them some tea. Just for a little while. Let them rest for a bit... Suga-sama could be so exhausting...

She had turned down Kogamon Avenue automatically and trudged on, lost in her thoughts. Now she saw there was a figure standing in front of the Mountain Lily Inn, and suddenly Mayuko, who had only been seeing the avenue ahead of her in a blurred, unconcerned way, was very much aware of the view strictly in relation to that round, rumpled, impossible figure in front of the inn.

Shonagon-sama.

Mayuko hadn't seen her in perhaps three months. Not since her last astronomy lesson. And she had _never _seen Shonagon-sama away from the Guild offices. She didn't think anyone ever had... Shonagon-sama also taught geomancy; she had once had a much larger teaching load. She was fantastically old; it was whispered that she was older than Fujiwara-dono herself (who had known the emperor Shirakawa when she was a young woman!); no one liked to think how old. She was a small, unimpressive figure, Shonagon-sama, until she looked you in the eye and you realized that a person doesn't have to be tall and forceful-acting to be impressive; one's impressiveness can be on the inside, and only revealed in glimpses.

And she was standing outside the Mountain Lily Inn, looking _lost_.

As if in a dream, Mayuko approached her.

"Good day, Shonagon-sama."

Shonagon-sama turned her whole body and smiled happily. "Hullo, Mayuko-kun! I was, er, looking for you. Nice day, ain't it?"

It was a nice day, Mayuko supposed. After Suga-sama, she couldn't say she'd been in a condition to notice... But that was a funny thing about Shonagon-sama. Mayuko supposed she could well have been the worst student ever to pass through Shonagon-sama's classes, always confused, sometimes in tears, and she would have expected to be either ignored or hated by the great sorceress, but Shonagon-sama had been unfailingly kind and patient with her, and now she was clearly pleased to see her. Mayuko felt herself blushing, but held her head up – something Yoshino-san had been making her do lately – and said, "Shonagon-sama, you are very welcome here. Will you come upstairs and take some refreshment? – er, I beg you to endure our unworthy hospitality for a space of time..."

"Don't mind if I do, don't mind if I do. I did just want to have a word with you, and, er, Yoshino-kun too, if she's about..."

The smile was gone, and Shonagon-sama was looking vaguely about herself. "This, er, this is your inn, is it?"

"Yes. Please follow me, Shonagon-sama..."

They went inside.

As they passed the entrance to the kitchen, Miyo-san, chopping a leek, looked up. Shonagon-sama looked at her, and Mayuko couldn't see Shonagon-sama's face in that moment, but Miyo-san dropped the knife and covered her mouth with her hands.

The moment and the doorway had both passed, and Mayuko made a mental note to ask Miyo-san later what she had seen. When they got to the ladderway, she asked Shonagon-sama to precede her up it, because to do otherwise seemed rude, with such an elderly if formidable person.

This caused her to have a sight that froze her, for a moment, in astonishment, but she kept going up the ladder. At the top she moved around Shonagon-sama, bowing to her as she went, and sped ahead to the sliding door of the sorceresses' suite – she wanted to get to Yoshino-san first –

"Yoshino-san –"

"I've been _waiting _for you –" Yoshino-san, reading at the table, sat up and glared, obviously annoyed.

"Yoshino-san, _Shonagon-sama_ is here –"

"_What?_"

"Good afternoon, Yoshino-kun," Shonagon-sama hailed from the doorway. "No, no, don't bother to get up, don't even think it, dear heart. I know you are unwell."

"Shonagon-sama –" Yoshino-san looked at the great sorceress, and back at Mayuko in wonder.

"Please be seated, Shonagon-sama," Mayuko-san said, placing a cushion at the other end of the table from Yoshino-san, "if you choose. Will you take some tea with us? Yoshino-san and I usually have a pot, around now."

"That would be just the thing, Mayuko-kun. I should be most grateful to you." Shonagon-sama went to the cushion and gingerly lowered herself onto it. "Oh, dear me... cherish your knees while you've got them, girls... you don't know how essential knees are, for the littlest things, until they betray you..."

Yoshino-san came to Mayuko while the water was heating on the little stove. Shonagon-sama was singing softly to herself, just at the edge of hearing, something about a snake and a cricket, and how faithless they were in the long grass. "Mayuko, what is she _doing _here?"

"I don't know, Yoshino-san; she hasn't told me yet. I think she's going to tell both of us. I'm sorry I'm so late. Suga-sama –"

"– was being the most horrendous bitch as usual, I'm sure she was. Sorry I snapped at you."

Mayuko smiled. She had become mostly inured to Yoshino-san's losses of temper, and she knew Yoshino-san didn't like being alone, and didn't like being under orders not to stir outside. She depended on Mayuko's company. So now Mayuko also felt guilty about staying so long to talk to the abandoned Rats, and for not mentioning it to Yoshino-san –

"But this is so _strange,_" Yoshino-san went on. "I've never seen her away from the Guild offices before. She looks so out of place. And _singing?_"

"She's taking her ease," Mayuko said mildly. "I'm sure even great sorceresses do that from time to time. Just, not usually where we can see them."

"And hear them," Yoshino-san riposted, with a curious quirk to her mouth. "I'm not sure just what that snake and cricket are up to, but I'm pretty sure they shouldn't be doing it..."

"Yoshino-san!" Mayuko gasped.

Soon, they were all seated at the table, with tea. Shonagon-sama lifted her cup to her face and inhaled the fumes with obvious relish, then set it back at her foot without drinking. "Well," she said. "Isn't this nice!..."

Yoshino-san and Mayuko agreed that it was.

"Such a pleasant room. You Mountain Lily girls know how to live."

Mayuko felt very nervous. Yoshino-san had a brave, calm, unreadable face when she wanted one. Mayuko admired it.

Shonagon-sama didn't share their nervousness, or even appear to notice it. She sat there, nodding and smiling.

A few moments passed.

Then she began to sing the song about the snake and the cricket again. There were apparently other verses she hadn't got around to earlier.

The snake and the cricket  
Overjoyed to see  
One another's faces in the long grass:  
Faithless, they were faithless,  
There, in the long grass.

The cricket danced in welcome  
The snake licked the air  
Generous with their stolen time:  
Faithless, they were faithless,  
There, in the long grass.

Neither Yoshino nor Mayuko would have interrupted her for a 60,000-bushel-per-annum rice stipend.

When Shonagon-sama paused to sniff her tea again, however, Yoshino ventured to say, "Shonagon-sama... as you're here –"

Shonagon-sama set the tea down, again without raising it to her lips. "I do apologize. My mind keeps wandering today. Inexcusable, especially since I am here on urgent business."

_It would have to be, to get you south of Third Street,_ Yoshino thought. But all she said was, "How may we serve you, Shonagon-sama?"

"Well, er... no-one was about at the Guild Offices... not sure what they're all playing at..."

Yoshino went rigid with horror. She heard Mayuko gasp next to her, so imagined she felt about the same. "They – why, they've all gone on _Questioning_, Shonagon-sama –"

"Oh, ah? Questioning? Is it that time of year again already? Well... I suppose young people will do that kind of thing... seems like only yesterday they got back from the last one..."

Shonagon-sama did have a reputation for vagueness – _though she also has a reputation for suddenly becoming sharp and mindful, often at the most awkward and unexpected moments_ – but this was ridiculous – no, ridiculous meant it made you want to laugh, and Yoshino didn't feel like laughing. Not a bit. "Suga-sama wasn't there?"

"What, the horrendous bitch?" Shonagon-sama said without a trace of rancor.

_Like that,_ Yoshino thought. "I am sorry, Shonagon-sama, I assure you I meant no –"

"It's all right, Yoshino-kun. There's no law against your having opinions, and I'm sure I do look out-of-place to you... there's no denying that I have aged rather eccentrically... Akiko's always chiding me about that... Hrm. All right. Just what do you two think is happening, around this city, lately?"

Yoshino wondered very briefly who she meant by "Akiko" or if she even knew, and then it occurred to her that, as Fujiwara-dono's one-and-only senior, Shonagon-sama was probably also the one and only person who called her by her personal name.

"Well, the monks from Mount Hiei were... making some sort of a fuss about something... a day, or two?..." Mayuko was apparently hazy on the details.

"Yeees..." Shonagon-sama waited.

"And Fujiwara no Yukinaga's Longevity Celebration is coming up," Yoshino-san said, ticking it off on a finger.

"Very true..." Shonagon sama waited some more.

"And there was some sort of demonstration a few days ago," Yoshino-san added. "It was all the way over on Red Bird Avenue, but we heard them yelling here."

"I don't really know what the demonstration was about, though." Mayuko was confused.

"Too much rice has been going south, ostensibly to quell the insurrection there," Shonagon-sama said in a bored way. "There are many other cries of 'mismanagement!' too. Though I always think that's a footless accusation, with Fujiwara no Yukinaga. Whatever the accuser may think of it, it's not mismanagement; the odds are overwhelming that it's exactly the effect he was after..."

"So," Yoshino said, trying to head the digression off before it could take them all too far away from whatever the reason for Shonagon-sama's visit might be, "the demonstration and Yucchan's birthday and the vile monks were _not_ what you had in mind?"

"How about the _demons_?" Shonagon-sama said impatiently.

They jumped.

"Well," Mayuko said, "I suppose you heard, Shonagon-sama, there was a demon, a couple of weeks ago, but –"

"Ogasawara-kun killed it," Shonagon-sama said, waving a hand. "Akiko mentioned it. Old news. And it's _demons_. Now, not a couple of weeks ago."

"M-more than one?"

"I have seen _three_."

Yoshino and Mayuko stared at one another, then back at Shonagon-sama. "Three," Yoshino repeated.

"Tried to fight one. Inconclusive. I, er," she seemed embarrassed, "had one of my funny spells in the middle of the fight, and the creature didn't take advantage of the opening. Kept its distance. Smirked a bit. Wasn't really interested in fighting, though it did make a couple of nice moves. More interested in watching me to see what I did."

"And you saw two others?" Yoshino pursued intensely.

"If I saw three there will be more. Demons are crafty. You have to expect the unexpected. Trouble is, human beings are no damned good at expecting the unexpected, and sorceresses _are _human beings, when all's said and done."

"Demons in the City..." Mayuko had gone white. Her hands were over her mouth.

"Not the end of the world, mind you," Shonagon-sama said. Her eyes were dreamy, unfocused. "Before Akiko came of age, they used to come into the city all the time. There were nights, some festival nights especially, when you couldn't set foot outside after a certain hour... oh, you still can't, but back then it was even odds whether a footpad would slit your throat, or you'd be swallowed whole by a demon. Lumme, they were confident. Had no reason to be _cautious_, you see, not yet. They'd have parades, sometimes. I remember sneaking out to watch one when I was a girl. Such an assortment of faces! Blue skin, red skin, green skin... fangs, tails, paws, talons, beaks, jaw of rat, jaw of lion... giants and mannikins, things crawling and things flying, all glorying in the night, and in the power they had over us all... the _other city_, they were, in some sense... funny thing was, after a few minutes, it didn't seem any more horrible than a human parade. Not sure whether we got the idea of parades from them, or was it our invention?..."

"Shonagon-sama, _how are they getting in?_" Yoshino asked furiously. "The protections! You helped Fujiwara-dono with them, didn't you?"

"I did, yes. They seem to be failing. Don't think I haven't tried to shore them up, but..."

"Don't tell me – you've had trouble concentrating."

"You're a very intuitive creature, Yoshino-kun. Bold, too."

"Well, you did say there was no law against my having opinions, Shonagon-sama. I'm having a lot of them, at the moment, but I'll spare you a recitation because it would be a waste of time. Shonagon-sama, we _count _on you!" Yoshino raged, imploring. "When Fujiwara-dono is out of the City, the Guild members who are left behind all depend on you to look after them –"

"You can't anymore." Shonagon-sama looked sad, saying this.

Mayuko and Yoshino sat there, stunned.

"So blunt, Shonagon-sama," Mayuko whispered.

"I am sorry, for what that is worth. Not much, I know. I have tried, but I am clearly not up to it... the only reason, I think, that we're not all dead already, or imprisoned inside their signet rings, is that they're _waiting _for something, and I'm damned if I know what it is... could it be something in the City proper? Something to do with the Emperor? Yukinaga's 50th birthday? Things are escalating between the Tairas and the Minamotos, could that have something to do with it?... I came to warn you. You, and the unattached Rats at the Guild Offices, are all in grave danger –"

"Shonagon-sama, you really must tell Suga-sama about this."

"Whom?"

Mayuko nearly knocked over her tea. _The horrifying revelations are piling up,_ Yoshino thought grimly. She was also thinking _fool! fool! fool! fool! fool!_ because she could not, under any circumstances, say it to Shonagon-sama. "The other senior sorceress, Shonagon-sama. We were just talking about her earlier."

"Oh. Oh, yes... But when I looked her up, you see, there was only a blank space where she used to be... only an empty office, and some papers gathering dust." Shonagon-sama didn't seem to be seeing them anymore; her gaze seemed to be going inward. "Something similar when I tried to warn the Emperor... empty rooms, empty corridors... and a demon sitting in the Demon Room; it was throwing dice against itself, and it seemed to be winning... its smile growing wider and wider, wide enough to split the walls in another moment... I tried contacting Akiko, but there was fire in the bamboo... a sickle moon with the wind whistling about its horns... I don't think I'll be hearing from her again. I want you to give her my dear love, but I don't know if you're going to see her either. The light is fading from the day, you see... the sun passing out of our sky... the moon touching earth..."

Shonagon-sama was fading. Her voice was growing more indistinct, and they could see the north wall through her robe.

"Shonagon-sama!"

"Please don't go –"

The last was so whispery quiet Yoshino wasn't sure she'd heard it right until she checked with Mayuko later: "... my lady? Is that you? Have I been dreaming, or have you?... I have done my best, but I fear..."

She was gone.

Only her cushion, and her teacup, still on the table by where her feet had been tucked up, gave any indication that she had been there in the first place.

Mayuko was crying. Silently, her trick. Yoshino felt stunned, hollowed out.

Then, Kikuko-chan came into the room.

"Mayu!" she said loudly. "No-one told me you were back..."

Yoshino had turned her head to look at the girl. Mayuko seemed unable to move.

After initial reluctance, Kikuko-chan had accepted the fact that the sorceresses weren't going to leave her alone. She had tried to escape them once, and Mayuko had tracked her into Hell's Ditch and brought her back to the inn, looking very embarrassed and subdued. ("She cried at me," was all Kikuko-chan would tell Yoshino about it later.) The girl had cleaned up, and Mayuko had bought her some clothes by making some economy in her household expenses; Yoshino hadn't inquired too deeply into that. Kikuko-chan ran errands for them, did minor housekeeping chores, and sometimes helped Miyo-san out in the kitchen. She had grown up with some sort of idea that regular baths were unhealthy, but Mayuko insisted on her accompanying them whenever they went to bathe, and she had ceased to argue about it. She didn't seem completely settled – that could easily take years, and it had only been a couple of weeks – but the girl had come to like Yoshino and Miyo-san, and even stuffy old Goben-san, and as for Mayuko –

Without another word, Kikuko-chan ran to Mayuko and insinuated herself into her lap, and put her arms about her neck. Mayuko cried harder, and clung to her.

Yoshino let them stay like that while she gathered her thoughts. Disaster had descended with startling suddenness. Action had to be taken, but she didn't know what. _I'm only Ox-level!_ she fumed. _Why does this fall on me?_ Mayuko was Dragon-level, but Mayuko, well, she had many splendid qualities, and she had become very dear to Yoshino, but...

Painful though it was, they needed Suga-sama.

If she was still...

"Mayuko," Yoshino said slowly. "Suga-sama was _there_. You saw her this afternoon. Yes?"

"Yoshino-sama, she's crying!" Kikuko-chan said with a reproachful glare.

Yoshino opened her mouth to shout, but closed it in time. _Calmly, calmly,_ said Rei-chan's voice in her head. _She's only a girl, and she has adopted Mayuko._ "Yes, she is," Yoshino said, doing her best to be patient. "We've just had some very bad news. But..."

"I don't have time to cry." Yoshino watched with some surprise as Mayuko straightened her back and wiped her eyes. Yoshino felt mildly ashamed of herself, and very proud of her friend. "Yes, Yoshino-san. She was there. Shonagon-sama was going very strange, wasn't she? Caught somewhere between Dream and Waking... Maybe it means Suga-sama will be gone soon, but what could take _her_ off?"

"You put Shonagon-sama in the past?"

Mayuko sighed, and shook her head. Kikuko-chan clearly didn't like her "Mayu" feeling so low; she buried her face in Mayuko's neck. Mayuko patted Kikuko-chan's back. "I don't think Shonagon-sama will ever be seen again in this world. Do you? I can't tell you why I think so, but I'm pretty sure she's gone for good."

Yoshino nodded. "I think you're right. We have to tell Suga-sama, and she has to tell Fujiwara-dono; that's first. They can communicate by deep magic. Maybe Fujiwara-dono will be able to do something, or at least give Suga-sama useful instructions. But what about the Emperor?"

Mayuko sighed. She gently shifted Kikuko-chan out of her lap, kissing her forehead. Kikuko-chan sat docilely on the floor, waiting for Mayuko. Mayuko stood and walked over to Shonagon-sama's cushion and teacup. Then she stood stock still, staring into the cup. "Yoshino-san, her tea is gone."

"Well... well, she drank it, then..."

"She never did. I made it for her, and I was watching her, wondering when she was going to try some. She smelled it, and that was all. But the cup is empty..."

They looked at each other.

"And on the ladder," Mayuko said wonderingly, "she went first. I saw her feet. They weren't touching the rungs."

Yoshino nodded – then shook her head – then nodded again, and gave up. "Needs thinking about. But time for that later... Suga-sama is a sorceress. She can defend herself against a demon. The adorable Emperor-chan cannot. We have to find some way of keeping an eye on him..."

"Yes, Yoshino-san. I think that is our duty. But how? The Nine-Fold Enclosure. Not an easy place to get into –"

"_I_ can get in!" Kikuko-chan burst out.

The two sorceresses stared at their charge.

"Kikuko-chan..." Mayuko started.

"Honestly, I can!" the girl insisted. "I used to do it sometimes!"

"It's too dangerous, Kikuko-chan," Yoshino said.

"If anything happened to you –" Mayuko began.

"Oh, it can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing," Kikuko-chan said impatiently, "but it's amazing what people will leave lying around in there, and if you're just careful, you can come away with KILLER LOOT." Kikuko-chan's eyes glowed. "Riches untold –"

"Kikuko-chan, you wouldn't be going in there to steal!" Mayuko said sternly. "Stealing is wrong."

"I can do it, then?" Kikuko-chan leapt up excitedly.

"Kikuko-chan!" Mayuko wailed.

"Kikuko-chan, come here," Yoshino said.

Kikuko-chan looked at Yoshino as if at an interloper, and then obeyed, skipping defiantly as she came.

"Kikuko-chan –" Yoshino took her hand. Kikuko-chan allowed it, with a glance at Mayuko; she had started being nice to Yoshino mostly because "Mayu" was sad when she wasn't nice – "Kikuko-chan, this isn't just the Enclosure. It's the heart of the Enclosure. The Emperor. It is fantastically dangerous for you. I don't know just what they'll do to you if they catch you, but probably not anything very nice."

"If it will help, I want to do it."

_If it will help _Mayuko_, she wants to do it,_ Yoshino corrected silently. _She knows perfectly well that it's dangerous, but if she thinks it'll help Mayuko, no force on earth will stop her._ "All right, then. But there have to be ground rules."

"Yoshino-san!"

"Mayuko, come here. Please."

Mayuko hesitated, her eyes searching Yoshino's face. Then she came and sat in front of Yoshino, next to Kikuko. Kikuko put her arms around Mayuko's shoulders and touched her head to Mayuko's head. Mayuko looked at Kikuko despairingly, then drew the girl into her lap.

"I have a few ideas," Yoshino told them. "Listen..."

* * *

The sorceress Suga no Hisoka was bored. She had given the girls their work assignments for the day, and had no business checking on them for a while yet. She had seen Nanashi Mayuko that morning about what was going on at the Dragon Lily Inn or whatever it was, with her and Shimazu-kun. She now had nothing, no legitimate way of passing the time. She could try studying for her examination for Sheep level, but she had studied quite a bit in the past two weeks, and kept coming up with questions she wanted to ask Fujiwara-dono. She could try going to the palace and hobnobbing a bit with her contacts there, but she'd been doing that more than usual lately, and she had to be careful of wearing out her welcome. Ordinarily, at this time, she would have been either teaching a class or talking with Fujiwara-dono, and she couldn't do either. It was strange. She always looked forward to Questionings when Fujiwara-dono took the students to the Gorge – "With everyone out of town I'll be able to get some real work done" – she believed it every time, but she always came to this pass eventually. She preferred her solitude, but resented having no-one to talk to, and nothing to do but consume herself about present power struggles, glower over past defeats, and worry about Hikaru-kun – about –

Most inexplicably, there was someone standing in her doorway.

The girls wouldn't dare come to her until the cleaning was done. And no-one else ever did come. And anyway, this person was too tall. In fact, it looked suspiciously like –

_A man._

Hisoka bristled. A man, uninvited, in the sanctum of the Guild Offices? A man, at the very threshold of her personal chamber?

Fury gathered within her, and she rose to her feet –

The man cleared his throat. "I do beg your pardon," he said, with great courtliness, "for turning up unannounced. There was no one about, in the entryway, and I _was _hoping to speak with you."

Why, it was Kashiwagi no Suguru of the Bureau of Commerce... not someone she'd expect to turn up here.

Hisoka did not exactly approve of young Kashiwagi. There was no doubt that his pedigree was among the most coveted in the land, and his taste in clothes, in literature, in music... his taste in pretty much everything, leave it at that... his taste in TASTE was impeccable. He was the model to which so many young noblemen looked for hints of how they should be. Nevertheless, she had never been able to form a very clear picture of his aims and motives, and she had a tendency to resent anyone with more influence than she had or could aspire to. (She chose not to consider, at this moment, how very long a list that was.) And Suguru was friendly with the Emperor Rokutoru, and the Emperor, like many young men, seemed to look up to him. She knew that she was not the only person who moved in courtly circles, to feel personally threatened by this intimacy, and she wondered, if Kashiwagi-san were to fall from grace, how terrible a fall would it be?...

She had given him a few moments of silence, in the hope of seeing him discomfited. He only waited. She decided that such a pause, if she were to let it go on too long, might expose her own vulnerabilities rather than provoke him into revealing his, and she tried, with rather self-conscious mysticism, to choose the most disconcerting moment in the long pause in which to respond to him.

"People do not, as a rule, come to visit us, unless they wish to pay for our services," she said at last. "And all the City knows that the preponderance of the Guild is away on Questioning. Those of us who remain are but few, and we do not bother to assign door duty to anyone."

"And... if an intruder should happen to take advantage of this?"

Hisoka only smiled.

Kashwagi-san nodded. "I see." The same calm face, the same gentle, careless voice.

"_Do_ you wish to retain our services?..." Hisoka, still smiling, raised her eyebrows. "I fear that, without any other senior sorceresses present, I am kept rather busy looking after things here, and the lack of other senior sorceresses also means that there's really nobody else about the place who's worth hiring, if you understand me. It would not be practical, at the present time, to..." She let this trail discreetly off.

"I was hoping to converse with you," he said, "about diverse matters."

"Can you give me some idea of?..." More discreet trailing.

He inclined his head a little. "You are not of the court," he said, "and yet you have a welcome there, unusually for a sorceress, and you spend even more time there than does Fujiwara no Akiko-dono, and I know you keep your ear to the ground..." He sighed. "The court can be unutterably dreary at times. It is the element in which I move, and it is difficult to imagine being away from it on a permanent basis – yet, the constant struggle of each one to get favor, the notice of the Emperor, and advancement, lucrative positions in the hierarchy, means that people are always suspicious of one, and one finds oneself always being forced, for mere practicality's sake, to be suspicious of others... I hoped to discuss recent events, and possible future ones, with someone who would not suspect me of trying to steal her post, since it would be quite impossible for me to hold yours if I had it."

Hisoka examined this, while he waited... Unhappily, it was perfectly sound. She really had no fault to find with it. "Pray be seated," she said, waving one arm.

Soon, he was seated across from her, and holding a small cup of sake, which she had allowed him to pour himself. She had anticipated discord over this. The court officially regarded the sorceresses as men, but unofficially many of its individual members still expected them to be women, an expectation she refused to indulge even for the sake of hospitality. But if he had been taken aback by her neglect of her womanly duty, he didn't show it, and had poured his own sake with every appearance of equanimity. All poise. She would have given something to have had a momentary peek at his thoughts...

Suguru sipped at the sake – it was very good – and looked calmly at the woman opposite him. He had never had much to do with her, but she had apparently worked closely with a few ministers, and with the previous Emperor, on various projects. She had something of a knack for statesmanship. It was not a woman's calling – or a sorceress's, ordinarily – and he might have looked on it as little more than an eccentric hobby, if he had not heard his uncle Ogasawara say once, perhaps a bit grudgingly but with what Suguru felt to be genuine admiration, that "If she'd been born a man, she could have given Fujiwara no Yukinaga a run for his money." To have garnered such a compliment from such a source, Suguru felt, was no mean distinction for a woman. So, after running through a short list of possible confidants, he had thought of Ogasawara-dono's words, thrown away his list, and come in search of Suga-san.

The look she was giving him was without affect, apart from a hint of unenchantment, and something he might have called dyspepsia if she weren't so obviously above such things. _She is waiting for me to impress her,_ he thought. _Best begin._

"I work in the Bureau of Commerce, as you may know."

"I have heard as much," she acknowledged. "I have heard some say you _are _the Bureau of Commerce."

"I do most of the heavy work of running the place," he conceded, "and I would be prouder of that, were it not that I suspect that it is mostly a cosmetic Bureau of Commerce, and that the actual Bureau of Commerce is located elsewhere."

"Indeed?" Hardly any change in tone.

"You seem unsurprised."

"It seems obvious to me, but I have been involved with Government rather longer than yourself. How long have you suspected this?"

"Since not long after I started with the Bureau. Something over two years ago."

"And you have kept right on laboring for it, in spite of its being cosmetic?"

"Mostly cosmetic. I was curious to know just where the real Bureau of Commerce is, and who runs it, and I thought that I was in a slightly better position to learn these things where I was than I would be if I resumed my Guards captaincy, or went on a hunting trip."

"A hunting trip might have borne fruit for you. You'd be surprised how much spit gets swapped, in a mercantile way, on a hunting trip, or on a plum-blossom-viewing expedition to Yogawa, say. But you are right to say that you wouldn't learn much about it in the Guards. It would be difficult to learn _less_ in the Guards," she added morosely, "on any subject, without actually sticking a knife in your head."

"Such was my impression," he said softly.

She looked at him directly. Her musing tone vanished. She was concentrating, intensely, and he worried, for a moment, until she spoke, and then he realized it was not he she was concentrating on; she was merely gathering herself to pontificate.

"It all comes down – as so many questions do – to Fujiwara power."

Suguru prepared to be bored. So she was one of those. People did complain about the grip the _Sekkanke_ had on the state, and it was true that they were ubiquitous, but there were other notable families – Suguru's, though smaller than the Fujiwaras and not so old, was noteworthy nevertheless, as were the Ogasawaras. The Minamoto and the Taira, and their collaterals, were without number, and they were mere warriors, and say what you will about that, they seemed to get a lot of government posts, especially the Minamotos –

"If I am boring you, Kashiwagi-san..." Acid tones.

Suguru stiffened into alertness. Suga-san looked a bit bored herself; she had sagged back, and was sipping her sake. _Leave or stay,_ her posture seemed to say, _it's all one so far as I'm concerned. You were the one who wanted to talk to_ me. "I do apologize, Suga-san," he said. "It is only –"

"You hear a lot of nonsense talked about the Fujiwaras, I am sure," she said, sounding a little less venemous. "I do myself. And considering the amount of Fujiwara blood you have in your own veins, it is only natural that you should be disinclined to listen to much of it. Let us stick to facts, for the moment, and eschew supposition. Confucian principles have traditionally been very important in this country, have they not?"

"They have," Suguru said. "The teachings of Confucius are a stay and an anchor."

"Certainly we perceive them as such." Suga-san sounded unexcited. "If you were to re-read the Analects, in the original Chinese, _thoroughly_, you might find that parts of it are a bit surprising. We have a tendency to take those aspects of foreign teachings that fit our way of life and leave the rest of it alone. Nevertheless, what Confucius taught is of great importance to us, true. What would you say are the most important aspects of his teachings? That is, what were the things that were important to Confucius?"

"Oh – filial piety, veneration of ancestors, rule by example, education –"

"Education," Suga-san interrupted before he could go on. "Yes. Very important. Tell me, what sort of state is education in, lately, in this city? Did you attend the Imperial University?"

"I was privately educated," Suguru said calmly.

"Of course you were. Do you know anyone who has attended the University?..."

"Surely you know that no-one goes there anymore –"

"Quite! The place is choked with weeds, and the fires of learning are kept in sputtering, fitful life only by a devoted, eccentric few who haunt those stones. Can you tell me why? –"

"Different people have different ideas about that."

"I will tell you mine. In the days of Sugawara no Michizane, education was the path to advancement. This has gradually ceased to be the case. Government appointments nowadays are handed out solely on the basis of family background. In other words, if you are not of the _Sekkanke_, or one of their favored collaterals or pets, you are almost certain never to rise above the fourth court rank. In such a climate, a university education is rather a waste of time, is it not, considering the brevity of human life?"

Being very careful not to sound bored or critical, Suguru said, "I have heard something of the kind before, Suga-san. Most often from people who had been passed over for court appointments."

"But it's still true," Suga-san insisted. "And the phenomena you have observed at the bureau are part and parcel of this same effect. The necessary work of running the bureau, the ceremonial of it, is given to those aristocrats below the Fujiwara line. They are necessary for the look of the thing, like rocks and shrubs carefully arranged in a garden. You are a rare rock which has begun to ask: who is the gardener? That is all."

Suguru did not care to be told that he was a rock. Still, it was only a metaphor, and no doubt her students had had worse. He was beginning to feel sorry for them. "So you think there is a – _secret plot_, a conspiracy by the Sekkanke branch of the Fujiwaras, against the state, against the people of these islands, against the other families –"

"A conspiracy there is," Suga-san interrupted sharply, "but not against any of those things, merely _for _their own interests. As simple and as complex as that. They are the top family, and they mean to stay that way. – There have been times in recent history when they nearly lost their position – the reign of Shirakawa, and those little uprisings by the Heike more recently, but that only firms their resolve, and sharpens the mind of someone like Fujiwara no Yukinaga. It is not that he is our enemy, it is that he is his own friend – the only one he really has."

"Nevertheless," Suguru pointed out, "the Fujiwaras are not the only powerful family, At times the Minamoto seem pre-eminent, and at other times the Taira –"

"Yes," Suga-san said, "well, the Minamoto have been the teeth and claws of the _Sekkanke_ since time out of mind. The Taira have tended to come off worse in matters of high quarreling, but they have nevertheless made a steady, if modest, acquisition of power, in spite of imperial indifference and occasional disapproval. No mean feat. But they have many excellent fighters and commanders in their ranks, and that has begun to assume a new importance lately."

"When you say 'imperial disapproval,' Suga-san, I am sure you mean 'Yukinaga's disapproval.'"

"But of course. The Emperor's disapproval is neither here nor there. He's only a boy."

"He is my friend."

Suga-san regarded Suguru with a cold eye. "The Emperor is no-one's friend, and everyone's."

"The Emperor, perhaps. Rokutoru is another matter."

"Have you reason to be worried about him?"

Suguru's face was impassive. Hisoka was beginning to understand that, on Suguru, that might mean anything. "How much do you know about the capture of Tsujimoto no Fujito?"

"I was present at his arrest, as you know very well; you were there too. Your own position was somewhat ambiguous, as I recall... I was not present at his trial, but I gather you managed to talk Fujiwara no Yukinaga out of passing the sentence of death which is usual in such cases. I congratulate you on that, belatedly; that is not an easy man to talk out of anything."

"I did not talk him out of it. I wish I had. It was clear that he would not listen. I was desperate to save my fool of a friend, and I made my appeal to the Emperor instead."

"Really?... And the result?..."

"The Emperor most generously granted my appeal. He overruled Fujiwara no Yukinaga. He defied him."

Suga-san's eyes were wide. Suguru did not think that he had surprised her, exactly, but she was obviously much alive to the drama of what he told her. "Oh, dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear..."

"So you see my position."

"I'm not sure I do. _You're_ free and clear. Aren't you?"

"I may or may not be. But the Emperor is not. He may have got himself into serious trouble, and he has done it on my account."

Suga-san regarded him coolly.

"In order to better understand the functioning of my office," Suguru went on, "and the actual intersection of commerce and government, which appear to be two different things, I have been asking the occasional nosy question, over the last couple of years, of some prominent people, in what is really a very small community. I even have some sort of recollection of asking Fujiwara no Yukinaga himself, more than a year ago now, certain intrusive questions about how he conducts his government, an excess of presumption and a deficiency of discretion I blushed to think of later and shudder to think of now, when I think also of the line I have been walking. Now, I have had a letter from Tsujimoto, my aniki..." he trailed off.

"The letter worries you, somehow?" Suga-san prompted.

"Not so much the letter," he said slowly, "as the person who delivered it. The letter itself is typical Tsujimoto. The man obviously believed any apology to be in his power. If he really thought that, after the way he had behaved, he could just write me a poem and grovel charmingly... he was really a prime –" Suga-san was giving him another of her wintry looks. Suguru bit off his dissatisfaction with his friend, and swallowed it. He was still not entirely satisfied with his own behavior, and he could not explain the one without wallowing in the other dissatisfaction, and that was all side-issue anyhow; there were more important –

"You speak of him as if he were a past thing," Suga-san prompted.

Pause.

"Because I am morally certain that he is dead," Suguru said reluctantly. "The messenger was a court functionary – one Minamoto no Ichitaro – a gentleman, of a sort – one of those chaps who seems to have no face – and he was sly and knowing in a way I didn't quite like. At a nod from me, my man Benkei cornered the fellow before he left the house, and gave him a lively few minutes, but could get nothing substantial out of him. Benkei is positive, however, that he knew more than he was telling, and whatever he was concealing was dangerous knowledge, since Benkei's threats didn't worry him as much as the consequences of revealing what he knew... well, from all this, it seems very likely that my aniki is dead, and that this man knows something about it. Might even have caused it. And I can't see someone of his level undertaking such a risk on his own. If he killed aniki, he did so because he was ordered to, and I can think of only one explanation for that.

"You work fairly closely with Fujiwara Akiko-dono, do you not?" Suguru asked her, a bit abruptly.

Hisoka stirred at the sudden change of subject. "Yes. And, for your next question, yes, this is the sort of development she would want to be informed of. Though, as it happened the evening before she left the city, she may already be informed of it. She doesn't always tell me everything she knows."

"If she didn't tell you, then I'm fairly sure she didn't know."

"And why?"

"I do not know her well, but I believe that she has a regard for Rokutoru. If she was aware of a situation potentially dangerous to him, she would tell you, would she not? With a view to your keeping an eye on him while she was out of town?"

This was true, or at any rate seemed to Hisoka very likely to be true, and she was annoyed with Suguru for spotting it before she had. She concealed her annoyance, however; expressing it would only entail a further loss of dignity. "That is true," she said, and then simply added, "She would want me to inform her, most likely."

"Then you can do that? At this distance?"

"Oh, yes. Not easily, but it can be done, and it will be."

The air around Suga-san seemed a bit forbidding, for some reason, and Suguru felt tentative about troubling her further, in an area where she had all the expertise and he had none, but for the sake of his friend he spoke. "Is there anything she can do about it at this distance?"

"Not a solitary thing that I am aware of," Suga-san answered him almost cheerfully, "but there may be actions she can set in motion at second hand, as it were. And anything she asks _me_ to do for the young Emperor, I will of course do."

"And you would feel no conflict of interest?"

She raised her eyebrows. "And why would I?"

"I do know that you are involved at court. Exactly whom you are allied with is something of a mystery, however, which suggests that you have considerably more adroitness than most who play that game."

She noted to herself that he had rather amusingly slipped into being suspicious of her, when only a few minutes ago he had been complaining about how tedious it was to be suspicious of fellow courtiers all the time. "Ah! I see your concern. I understand it. I suppose that you will simply have to trust me. My alliances are murky for the very good reason that they are, for political purposes, nonexistent. I have assisted certain courtly figures with my powers, but there is a rather strict non-interference policy in place in the Guild, to wit: we are not allowed to give our assistance in matters that are overtly political, that is in matters to do with advancement and the attainment and maintenance of positions of power. There is gradation in all things, as Fujiwara-dono is fond of saying, and sometimes it can come down to a quite arbitrary judgment. But as we are sanctioned by the Emperor, by the house of Yamato, and to some extent at least owe our official existence to that fact..."

"You can assist him? Even though it is an... overtly political matter?"

"We could not assist him if he wished to attack anyone at court. Fujiwara-dono explains that to emperors when they are quite young. That would make our position ultimately untenable. But we can defend him if he is being attacked. Indeed, we are obliged to. And if I had let my 'alliances' get into such a state that I could not do that simple thing, then I would have seriously failed in my duty to the Guild and to the house of Yamato."

"You couldn't be... fooling Fujiwara-dono somehow?..."

Suga-san smiled. "Anything is possible. If you are asking for unilateral assurances that all will be well, I cannot accommodate you."

"I accept that," Suguru said softly. "My question stands."

Suga-san's smile did not waver. "It is plain that you do not know Fujiwara no Akiko-dono very well, as you said. You seem a clever young man, and more discreet than most your age, and some greatly your elder. Sometime, when you have leisure, try fooling Fujiwara-dono about something. Anything. Then tell me how you did."

"... I see."

"It is possible to fool her, but quite a long way from easy." _The one person who has any real success at it is she herself,_ Suga thought,_ but that really begs the question, doesn't it? When a person is fooled, who is really responsible? If someone else fooled you, were you not in a state of mind, an attitude, where you could be fooled? And if you have taken the trouble to learn how the world wags, and have nevertheless allowed yourself to get into that state of mind, then are you not, in some sense, _asking_ to be fooled?..._ "Have I satisfied you?"

"You have answered my questions," Suguru answered carefully. "I may, as you suggest, be seeking assurances unavailable to mere mortals."

She looked at him, waiting.

He bit a finger gently, and stared at it. "The atmosphere at court lately makes me uneasy. Fujiwara no Yukinaga's longevity celebration is coming up. And he has announced his intention to resign his chancellorship, and the regency."

"If you are astonished and disbelieving of that, Suguru-san, you are in excellent company."

"I know it. Most of my acquaintance have taken leave to doubt the possibility of his relaxing his grip, and yet he seems quite firm that he shall. And the announcement was so sudden."

"Truthfully, I am uneasy also, Suguru-san."

They looked at one another. Each could see the wheels turning in the other's head.

"Could we possibly form..." Suguru began.

"... an alliance? Possibly," Hisoka finished. "With the strict understanding that our sole object is the defense of the Emperor, and the state."

"That is all I desire," said Suguru, "but I will promise not to ask anything else of you, if that makes you feel easier."

"It does," she said, smiling.

Suguru seemed a trifle embarrassed. "... We will have to meet, now and then. Should I come here?"

"That might cause comment, if you did it too often. We should be careful not to meet twice in the same place, if it can be avoided. And there is a charm I can teach you... not a summoning exactly, but a call I will hear, and then you must stay where you are, because that is where I will come. Repeat after me..."

* * *

After Kashiwagi-san had gone, Hisoka sat there ruminating for a time.

Kashiwagi-san interested her. She was normally antagonized by young men of his background, but given that most of the court was made up of young men of his background, she had had to become acclimatized to them over time. He was different from the rest somehow, and she realized all at once, remembering his total lack of amusement or smugness when he caught her in an obvious mistake, what it was: at court there was a consistent undercurrent of disrespect and revulsion for sorceresses generally, because of their unconventionality, their frequent failure to be fashionable ("Better to be _timeless_, if you can," Fujiwara-dono often said, in defiance of the courtly aesthetic), and for her, Suga no Hisoka, specifically because she was a woman who dabbled in politics. Kashiwagi-san lacked that disrespect and revulsion. Perhaps it was because of his cousin, but Hisoka did not know either of them well enough to say. Anyway, what needed doing now was not categorizing the relationships of people she barely knew. She had to contact Fujiwara-dono. This would require meditation. She closed her eyes, and started the musicians playing in her head.

Vast, vast distances. Mountain upon mountain, all proceeding in their ranks, marching out of and receding into mist. Hills sloping up and over and away –

"Suga-sama?"

– Heian Kyo. All around her.

She opened her eyes and glowered at the new, or rather returning, figure in her doorway.

Nanashi Mayuko-kun.

A little of this Mayuko went a long way, and Hisoka had already had a long conversation with her earlier. She was working her way up to be angry about having Mayuko-kun inflicted on her twice in one day, and she could see that Mayuko-kun was bracing herself for an outburst, which only made Hisoka more annoyed –

– and then it occurred to her that, if Mayuko-kun disliked her company as much as she disliked Mayuko-kun's – and she knew she did – and yet the blithering girl was seeking it twice in the same day –

Something was wrong.

So instead of the nasty remark she'd been about to make, she only said "Yes? What the devil do you want now?"

Little Nobody-chan seemed startled, then said, "Please you, Suga-sama, Yoshino-san and I have just had a visit from Shonagon-sama."

Suga listened.

When Mayuko-kun had done speaking, Hisoka was quiet for a little. While she didn't care for this Mayuko-kun, she granted her at least some intelligence – she couldn't have got to Dragon-level without – and her worst estimate of the girl did not include the possibility of her inventing strange lies in order to make herself important. She had as little backbone in that way, as little self-regard, as anyone Hisoka had ever known, and that was probably the chiefest of the annoyances she derived from Mayuko-kun's presence.

_Shonagon-sama gone?..._

This was not bad news for Hisoka – She had never got on well with Shonagon-sama – and she did not think it was terribly bad news for the Guild either – Shonagon-sama had been barely there in recent years – but she knew Fujiwara-dono would have a different opinion. The old blitherer had been the great friend and counselor of Fujiwara-dono's youth, or so Hisoka had gathered without ever learning the whole story – and she knew this was the sort of news Fujiwara-dono would want to be told. At once. So now she was in the position of having to be grateful to Fat Little Nonentity-kun in the doorway there – no, may as well forgo the gratitude, it would only annoy herself and confuse the Mayuko. But if Mayuko-kun had told her too late, then she would have had to cast the sending spell twice, and it was not the easiest spell in the world. "Why are you and Shimazu-kun so certain that Shonagon-sama will never return?"

Mayuko-kun was looking at the floor and twisting her fingers. Hisoka wanted to slap her, but that would take away energy she needed for sending. "She just... seemed to be at the end of everything, Suga-sama. So tired. She said more than I've ever heard her say about anything that wasn't astronomy or geomancy because it was her final communication. She was... passing down everything she thought was important – everything she could remember – and taking her leave of us."

Hisoka sighed. "It did sound like that. Well, Mayuko-kun, you have done well to come to me with this. Do you know, why didn't Shonagon-sama come to me? I am a senior sorceress, as she is. Can you answer me that?"

"She said – I don't know. She said she looked for you, but found your office empty."

"I have been here most of the day."

"She, um, she couldn't find the Emperor either. I don't think – er, I think –"

"Which is it?" Hisoka wondered sourly.

"_I think that_ at the last, she wasn't walking in the same city as the rest of us, Suga-sama," Mayuko-kun managed to get out. "It seemed to be the Capital's counterpart in Dream, or one of its counterparts. So – so we aren't even sure whether the demons she saw are here in the city already, or still to come, but we don't think she would have seen them or told us about them if they were nothing for us to worry about. I think that we have to act as if the trouble is here already, in Waking, because in Dream it has certainly arrived, and it might make the crossing between the two at any time..."

Mayuko-kun's voice had been sounding unusually authoritative, and she had actually been holding her head up, but now she faltered and looked down again. Hisoka's usual annoyance at this sort of thing was mild, because she was pondering what the girl had said. Unusually authoritative, yes, and unusually shrewd, for Mayuko-kun. That was annoying, if anything was annoying her at the moment... But what she was mostly wondering about was whether it would be necessary to order that Mayuko-kun and Yoshino-kun should come back to the Guild Offices. If there were a possibility of hostilities, then it might be unwise for the few Guild members left in the Capital to be so scattered. But, as she was well aware, and had been well aware every time she'd raised the subject with Mayuko-kun (more for the pleasure of watching the girl squirm and shuffle than because she really thought such a change desirable), that would be to countermand Fujiwara-dono's orders, even if it weren't necessarily detrimental to Shimazu-kun's health... _Hold off on that for now,_ she thought. _If it begins to look like being away from the Guild Offices is more dangerous for Shimazu-kun than her actual condition, you can change your mind, and you can use magic to bring her here fairly quickly and without upsetting her unduly._ "All right," she said aloud. "Go back to your inn for the time being. I will contact Fujiwara-dono this evening, and give her your news." _As well as my own..._

"What about the danger to the Emperor, Suga-sama?" Mayuko-kun asked. "The demons?"

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. The girl was definitely developing a spine. She found, once she got past her annoyance at Mayuko-kun's deviation from type, that she was actually pleased. "The situation is more complicated than it appears, Mayuko-kun. There is danger to the Emperor from the worldly realm as well as the demonic. I will tell Fujiwara-dono of both dangers, and she and I will arrive at a course of action. She will have to give me instructions with regard to the Protections, as I have never been involved with them... Another thing. At least until this crisis has abated, I want you to report to me once a day instead of once every three days. It's safe enough for you to leave Shimazu-kun that often, I suppose?"

"There are people around her," Mayuko-kun said uncertainly. "The innkeeper's daughter is very attentive. But –"

"Good. And take no action without consulting me first."

Mayuko-kun hesitated, then nodded, bowed –

"And shut the door on your way out."

– and bowed again, and departed, shutting the door.

Definitely something different about the girl. Hisoka wondered what had brought it about? The pressure of suddenly difficult circumstances?... Oh, well. Best to begin her meditations. Sending could take time, and she should contact Fujiwara-dono before the day was out...

* * *

Fujiwara no Yukinaga sat on his verandah, looking out through the sudden rain.

It had been quite unseasonably warm of late, but the rain had brought a gentle remembrance of winter with it, and the rain was a misty one. The trees he could usually see clearly from here, a short walk to the south across his outer garden, were but a green mass in the distance. He knew the shapes of them, however, and fancied that, with his eyes lidded, he could focus on them even through this impenetrable wash, pick out every branch of them, and give a name to each twig.

When he had done so to his temporary satisfaction, he said, idly "What news from Lord Minamoto no Yoshitsune?"

The young man behind him gave an audible start. Yukinaga heard the shuffling of paper. He waited patiently, under the overhanging eaves, in the wet, misty light, while in the dimness beyond the wide-flung doors behind him, his secretary recalled his sense of purpose, and hunted for it among letters and bills.

"His lordship says – he has had no success in his quest. He says to expect him in the Capital imminently."

"Does he give some precise notion of how many days 'imminently' may signify?"

"No, my lord. There are a few other trifling leads he wants to check, though he is sure in his heart they will come to nothing – he tells us – Fukuzawa-sama's home – is in ruins."

"So we had all heard, but rumor is often a bit wild. He is quite certain? In _ruins?_" Apart from the slight emphasis, Yukinaga gave no hint of his consternation. He knew important news when he heard it.

"Sometime last year, there was a fire. And also, apparently, some manner of military attack. The remains of the outer wall bear some signs of a siege engine having been used on it..."

"Is there no indication as to who might have been responsible? Siege engines are not commonly used in domestic disputes."

"I fear not, my lord. The local monastery professes innocence and ignorance."

"Pure as the driven snow, no doubt," Yukinaga breathed, staring out into the green mass... right there, in that green soup, was a branch where a hototogisu had built her nest. The rain was hard. He hoped that her eggs were undamaged. It was a parent's duty to protect her offspring...

"The Abbot gave Minamoto-dono his personal assurances, though Minamoto-dono did not care for the atmosphere at the monastery when he visited it. He has been endeavouring to find some trace of Fukuzawa-sama and his family, so far without success."

"He's very devoted to him."

"He would do as much for any of his warriors, my lord, down to the least," said the messenger, somewhat reproachfully. "Such is his reputation."

Yukinaga doubted the full extent of this, but was quite sure Minamoto-san would do as much for any of his senior commanders, and Fukuzawa-san was a valuable man, he had to admit. Worth some trouble. "Nevertheless, the situation here becomes more ticklish by the day. And everyone I normally count on to give my opponents a little tickling in return has chosen this auspicious moment to be out of town. That insolent Taira no Kiyomori, an irritation for so long, is attempting for a promotion to the level of threat."

"... Didn't you stir up trouble between the Minister of the Left and the new Guards Commander last summer, my lord?" the young man queried hesitantly. "And didn't you countenance the latter giving the former rather a check?"

"Oh, perhaps... you think Minamoto will be reluctant to help me?"

"Possible, my lord, possible... these warriors can be rather touchy about points of honor, and Minamoto-dono has never liked or respected Taira-dono."

"Taira-san does not make either thing easy. I doubt he'd have any followers at all if it weren't for his son. How Shigemori-san grew to be the man he is with _that _for a father... well, never mind."

"Is it still your intention to resign from public office after your longevity celebration, my lord?"

Yukinaga said nothing for a few moments, only staring out into the rain._ The nest, the nest..._

"Yes," he said. "Yes, a father's obligation is to protect his child. It is getting to be time for me to resign as _kampaku_. Rokutoru is not my son, but he inspires in me, nevertheless, a whirlwind of fatherly feeling. I wish to shield him from inclement weather – protect him from all harm – but this will never do. He is a man, now, and he should make his own way... of course, I will still give him advice whenever he asks it... but really, all things being equal, I've had my day. Time to start taking things easier. Spend some time at my mountain villa... write some poetry, perhaps..."

"I thought you didn't much care for poetry?... My lord."

"I might learn to like it. In the mountains, one feels one's spirituality the more strongly, and divine sustenance lurks behind every leaf... Yes. Surely it is time to change my ways... you may go, Naritsune. I am grateful as always for your diligence."

Naritsune made almost no noise in his departure, but Yukinaga knew every quirky floorboard in his house and knew when his secretary had gone.

The rain was easing up. Yukinaga still stared at the same spot that had been his focus for several minutes now, his eyes desperately striving to pierce the veil...

"Shall we write some poetry together, my lord?"

That was the voice of Masako, his favorite concubine, seated nearby. She had been bride to an emperor in her younger days, and now of course was well past her best, but she was nevertheless Yukinaga's favorite, and he would not part with her. He would have ado with younger women – quite frequently – but no one could replace Masako. He was careful to let her know this, in all sorts of little ways... "No, of course not," he said offhandedly. "Can't abide poetry. Never could."

"Oh, my lord," Masako sighed as if her heart would break. "You were being naughty again. And I did so hope... I would be so proud if I could teach you any part of what little I know..."

"Well perhaps someday," he said, dismissing the subject with breezy politeness. "Ah! the rain has stopped."

And so it had. In that spot where his gaze had rested for so long, the green mass had resolved itself into a tree, then a particular branch, then a particular nest, snug in the crook of the branch. He beheld in the nest a flash of orange beak, and then there came drifting to his ears the sweet song of the hototogisu.

His heart rejoiced. The parent had done her duty. The eggs were safe!...

"What would you like for your afternoon meal, my lord?" said Masako.

"I was thinking of egg drop soup," he said blithely. "Do you see that nest where I am pointing? There. Just _there_."

"My lord," Masako sobbed.


	17. At the Crossing of the Paths, part 3

And part three. Dada for now.

* * *

Satou Sei had listened attentively to all that Youko had to tell her about Directional deities. Always before she had cooperated with the restrictions without really understanding them. She had always been observant of them because her friends, her new family, her fellow-countrywomen of Dream and Waking, took them so very seriously, and she was surprised to find that, in some quiet place, she had always regarded the whole business of Directional taboos as rubbish. What could it possibly matter to any deity whether they went south or southeast? These foolish foreigners and their silly beliefs!

She felt herself being impatient with Youko – no surprise, today – and as Youko was being ever more diplomatic and gentle with her, she supposed that her impatience was showing. She had one moment of clarity in which she saw that her impatience was really for herself, that she was ashamed of her own foolishness – she, who had seen a whole host of less likely things, and had personally met gods with at least equally idiosyncratic requirements, before she had even met these friends of the Islands of Autumn Abundance. She could not acknowledge her fault, her shame, openly to Youko, which would usually have been her way, because there were too many other things she was not acknowledging to herself or anyone right now, and there was a fear – no, not even a fear, a certainty, like a layer of heavy oil not mixing with the waters above it – that if she acknowledged the one thing, she would acknowledge everything, and so fly to pieces.

She closed her eyes, and made herself calm. _There is time for this later. One piece at a time. There is work to do. Be gentle with Youko; she is not responsible for your troubles._

One word bubbled up from the deep oils: _murderer_. She ignored it.

Youko was looking at her, with that hateful concern and worry that had been between them lately. _In the wood of Dream there is an easy path leading from her to me, and back again._ Sei didn't think Youko could actually see her thoughts – _I can't see hers_ – but no doubt Youko was getting a strong sense of the turmoil that was happening inside Sei. She wanted to reassure Youko, but since she couldn't do so without lying, she just let her see the ghost of one of her old smiles, and said, "In other words, you don't really know where this deity resides."

"They are not that sort, that they have to reside in any particular place." Youko said this in a dry, patient sort of voice, so Sei knew she was quoting Fujiwara-dono. They smiled at each other.

"Understood," Sei said. "I see this isn't a good area for roads. Are there paths, at least?"

Youko raised an eyebrow. "Yes, there are a fair number, I suppose –"

"Is there anyplace where paths cross? That you know of?"

Youko looked at her.

"At least two paths, intersecting," Sei clarified, "but preferably more. The more, the merrier, really."

"Yes," Youko said slowly. "I think I saw a place like that early this morning, when I was walking with Fujiwara-dono. Not far from here..." She turned and began to walk, and Sei followed her. "Do you think that will work?" Youko asked.

"It had better. The god isn't the only one in this problem. I have to _find _the god, and if I can't find the god in my own way, I may as well not find it at all. A crossroads is a place of power."

"A place where paths and purposes come together," Youko murmured.

"You've hit it, Mistress Mizuno."

A short walk through a glade, past a vegetable garden (featuring a puppet-demon nailed to a stick with a sprig of parsley driven viciously through its head), somewhat downhill from a hut where the gardeners watched the passing sorceresses suspiciously, and there was a path leading past the garden down to the village proper, and there was another path meeting it, from the eastern river, and, only slightly fainter, another path from the direction of the western river; the two rivers that bracketed Gawagawa village. The place where the paths came together was ill-defined; many tramping feet and eccentric errands, day-to-day living in all its wilful indeterminacy, had blurred the boundary. A chaotic crossroads.

"_Perfect_," Sei gloated. She was beginning to feel better. She'd been too idle lately; there hadn't been a real difficulty or quest since they'd left Yamiko-san's. She unsheathed her sword...

Youko looked at it. "What's that for?"

"I'll likely need it. So I keep it in my hand."

"Your sword was broken," Youko said, remembering. "At Yamiko-sama's."

"This is Rei's," Sei said. "A spare. I'll get a new one of my own when convenient..." She went hunting among the vegetation at the side of one of the paths, and found some tall grass which seemed to please her. She plucked three strands, and then sat on a more comfortable patch of shorter grass. She began to wind the long green blades around her steel one, muttering as she did so.

Youko sat beside her. She found herself wishing they could sit together on grass and talk about nothing much, instead of bargains with gods. It was such a pleasant day. _I'll want you to help me have fun,_ Sei had said, the day of their departure. Youko thought she would like that. But all she said now was, "Do you miss your old sword?" Youko was actually curious about this. Swordhands tended to have a kind of fetishism about their weapons, and she wanted to see how Sei's thoughts were on the subject.

"Not particularly," was Sei's rather gruff response, between muttered incantations. "'... sound of the wind before... the world after the word is spoken...'"

"I mean... maybe you didn't have to bury it, at midnight, saying a spell over it, the way you did. Maybe it could have been re-forged... with magic?"

"Best not," Sei said savagely.

Youko started a little. The cold, rather frightening stranger she had glimpsed earlier had returned suddenly.

Sei looked up, and looked into Youko's face, and grimaced a little. She touched Youko's hand, resting on the grass between them, and Youko silently accepted whatever apology there was.

Then Sei bent her head back to her work.

"It was my father's sword," was all she said.

The stranger was gone –_ that's my Sei saying that_ – but there was still something in Sei's voice that suggested that further questions on the subject would not be welcome. So Youko held her tongue, though she was feeling even more curious now...

Sei had finished. She really smiled at her friend, now, and this smile was apparently closer to being alive than the other, for she saw an answering smile on Youko's face. But a sudden restless energy had filled Sei, and she stood, and turned back to the footworn patch of dirt, weeds, struggling grass, the place where the paths crossed. "This might take a while," she said, striding to the center of the patch.

She sat down, in the dirt.

She crossed her legs.

She closed her eyes.

Inside her, another eye opened, and peered steadily around.

* * *

Youko looked at Sei sitting there, and she thought about that smile. There was more of the real Sei in it than she'd seen in days, and her loneliness had eased a little.

_She sits down, and then sends herself out into the worlds beyond to talk with a god, and leaves her body behind – vulnerable?_

She wasn't sure. Sei was so seldom vulnerable, but Youko wasn't sure if she had a guardian of some sort in place, or just expected that end of things to take care of itself. But they were in a strange place. Sei was a sly one, but she didn't always think of absolutely everything.

Youko reached into her pouch, and took out a thing wrapped in a handkerchief.

"Will she come back all right?"

The wrapped jawbone in her hand waggled tentatively.

"You're no help," she told it. "Don't you want her to come back?"

It waggled with somewhat more vigor this time. There was a spiteful air to it.

Youko unwrapped it enough to be able to see it. Its smooth surface, polished, almost stone, as if it had been devoid of flesh for millennia, even though it was only a couple of weeks. Its sharp little teeth.

"Where did you come from, really?" she asked it. "And where have you gone to?"

It was still.

She wrapped it again, and stuck it back in her pocket.

She looked at her Sei.

_Vulnerable. Who will watch over her?_

_I will. I am always watching over her._

And she took up a seat between two bushes, nearby, so that she wouldn't be obvious to anyone who happened by.

And she waited for her Sei to come back.

* * *

Ayanokouji Kikuyo sat alone. Alone was the way she wanted it.

She had seen Toudou Shimako-san and Nijo-Noriko-san not far off from where she was now, some time ago, but she had carefully stayed out of sight. She wasn't sure if they were still there. After a while she couldn't hear their voices anymore, so she assumed they'd gone. She had cried for a while, as quietly as she could, and had stopped more because it was exhausting than because she had really done. She thought she might have dozed for a while, because the angle of the sun had changed suddenly... The worst of it was that she kept thinking of things she wanted to tell Mistress, or ask her – she had always been able to trust Mistress with her feelings, Mistress had said they were precious to her, more than once – _Mistress would want to know about this – Mistress can't know about this, because Mistress is gone. There's a hole in the air where she used to be, a folded tent that won't be used again this Questioning, or perhaps ever, among the permanent luggage. A tent we shared, but never again._ She kept telling herself that, hurting herself, which was cruel, and she didn't mean to, but it was the truth, and she would stumble away from herself, in pain, go in a circle, come back to the same place, bring herself up short again with the same insupportable truth.

She had slept in Fujiwara-dono's tent last night. Fujiwara-dono was a great sorceress, but as a tent-mate, she was no replacement for Mistress. She smelled different for one thing, like a musty old cloak. But she had at least kept her distance. Even when Kikuyo was crying. Everyone else felt the need to comfort her when she cried. Fujiwara-dono seemed content to let her sort it out on her own. Or maybe she was biding her time... or maybe she'd just been asleep when Kikuyo had been crying... No. She had been desperate, in the middle of the night, had woken up from a dream in which birds pursued her, screeching, all with Mistress's face, on an icy morning when she couldn't seem to find the city at all and stumbled in snow, crying and breathing hard, and the birds screeched at her _who will mend? who will mend?_, and she had woken up, and she had reached toward Fujiwara-dono, her hand shaking, saying Fujiwara-dono's name, and Fujiwara-dono's hand had met hers in the dark, without uncertainty. The hand was dry to the touch, wrinkled, but strong. Kikuyo had held onto it for a few minutes, her eyes feeling swollen and wet, but not really crying, not the way she had in the dream, and at last she had turned away, released the hand, and tried to get some sleep. She had not spoken to Fujiwara-dono. She hadn't really spoken to anybody. She had said things, now and then, but the things she had said had sounded foolish and off-the-point even to her. She hadn't really talked about what she'd been going through. Half the time she didn't know. Nothing was really wrong, was it? Mistress wasn't really gone. She wouldn't have left, so abruptly, without saying goodbye, there was a conversation they hadn't finished, about the Sweet Flag Festival, which they would probably get back in time for, they had been making tentative plans for seeing the festivities together, and Mistress had said, we'll talk more about it later. Mistress always kept promises. Mistress wouldn't make Kikuyo go to the Sweet Flag Festival on her own, would she?

_Not willingly,_ a voice somewhere qualified sweetly.

Kikuyo wasn't sure if that was Mistress's voice or her own head playing tricks, but suddenly she couldn't stay where she was; she had a peculiar urge to find the nearest available body of water and throw large rocks into it and scream herself hoarse. This seemed to her such a perfectly sensible course of action that she stood up from her little cul-de-sac, with the intention of finding whichever of the rivers was nearest –

– and stopped short because Fujiwara-dono was sitting in the lowest bough of a nearby tree, looking at her.

To cover her astonishment, and because the question was the first that leaped unbidden to her mind, Kikuyo said, "Must you materialize at people so suddenly? We never know whether you're coming or going, or whether you've been there all along. It is the worst of things for our comfort, to have a teacher who comes and goes like mist."

Fujiwara-dono only looked at her.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself?" Kikuyo snapped.

"Only this," Fujiwara-dono said: "that comfort is one thing, but it is not for a teacher to encourage complacency in her students."

"And must I be your student every moment of every day?" Kikuyo spoke more gently now. She wanted to find a tone of voice that would discomfit Fujiwara-dono, and snapping at her hadn't worked. "Can we not have some leisure time, a few spaces here and there where we don't have to brook your interruptions of the natural order?"

"_You _can't," Fujiwara-dono said. "Not just now."

Kikuyo glared sullenly at this hound of heaven. Then she turned, resolutely, and walked away. The way this place was set up, she'd be bound to come to _some _river in time, and she didn't much care which river she threw rocks into. _Mistress leaves a hole in the world, and now I go with Fujiwara-dono in my pocket,_ she thought. She remembered how low and grief-stricken she'd been feeling the day they'd left the Capital, yearning for Sachiko-sama, hating Yumi-san. She still yearned, but she really wished she could have those vile, burning, sickening jealous rages back again. She missed them. _If Mistress comes with them, I'll have them, and pay whatever's to be paid._

"Are you attempting to strike a bargain with the Lords of Death?"

Fujiwara-dono was walking beside her. She hadn't had to climb down the tree and run to catch up, of course; she had merely floated to her, like a cloud, or glanced herself her way like a ray of sun. _Just what I needed to cheer me up._ She tried not to give Fujiwara-dono the satisfaction of being startled. She just said, without looking at her companion, "Fujiwara-dono, I would really prefer to be alone at the moment. I am sure you mean well, and I'm sorry if what I said offended you –"

"I'm not offended, at all. Can't leave you alone, though. Sorry."

Kikuyo ground her teeth. "Why not?"

"A good mistress does not leave her imouto alone at such a time."

"_Why _do you have to be my mistress?"

"Because you've lost yours, and everybody on a Questioning has to be paired up. Guild rules."

"You weren't paired up."

"That's a very good point, you sharp-witted young thing. Still not leaving you alone."

Kikuyo was aware of the sound of water, which had crept up on them stealthily. They rounded a stand of conifers, and down a low bank, there the insidious river was.

"Fujiwara-dono, if you are feeling guilty about my mistress's death..."

"Yes?"

"You needn't."

She turned her head, looking up into Fujiwara-dono's eyes, and was surprised to find Fujiwara-dono's face unsmiling, and very still. Frowning, but otherwise calm. She looked into Fujiwara-dono's eyes, and knew from that, without knowing how she knew, that Fujiwara-dono was very, very angry.

She had never seen Fujiwara-dono really angry before, and began to be sorry she'd taken the line she'd been taking with her. She wondered what Fujiwara-dono did to junior sorceresses who made her angry? But when Fujiwara-dono spoke, the calm of her voice belied the darkness of her brow, the anger Kikuyo knew was there.

"I could say that my feelings of guilt, or otherwise, are none of your business," she said, "except it wouldn't be the right thing to say when I'm trying to get you to tell me your sorrow. I have let you be for a night, and most of a day, and I might do so longer, except it seems unwise in your case. Don't ask me to tell you why I think so, please – it's a subjective judgment, but all I have to go on. At all events, _my_ feelings are not important at this time."

"Can I know what they are?" Kikuyo said. She felt a bit shy about this, and thought she might be treading on dangerous ground. But somehow she had to ask.

Fujiwara-dono looked at her steadily for a little while.

"Sadness," she said at last. "Disappointment. Your mistress was quite a good sorceress. Impressive in a quiet way. Not as startlingly good as some others I could name, but I think she hadn't reached her full potential. We'll never know now; we've lost her. All that hard work teaching her, and all her hard work learning, and she is simply gone." The look rested heavily on Kikuyo's face again. "You are her legacy to us. If she lives on at all, it's through you. I knew her, not as well as you knew her, but well enough to know that if she had known she was going to be dead today, the first thing she would have asked me to do would be to take care of you; perhaps the only thing. So with your help or without it, Ayanokouji-kun, I take care of you."

Kikuyo found that an unbeatable argument. She didn't want to admit it, though. "What could you know about what I'm going through?" she burst out, stepping back a couple of paces. Her grief spoke directly. She hadn't _thought _that at all, the words had simply come out of her. Their reward was a very lopsided face from Fujiwara-dono, almost a glare, and almost a laugh, and almost a howl of impatience, but not quite any of these.

"How old do you think I am?" Fujiwara-dono asked.

Kikuyo suddenly felt foolish, which made her more sullen. She didn't say anything, but waited for another opportunity to attack.

"I will never see one hundred again," Fujiwara-dono said, "and of course, all of the people I knew when I was young are long gone. All but Shonagon-sama, and even she –"

"Did your mistress die?" Kikuyo interrupted. "When you were a young sorceress?" Kikuyo still felt sure that Fujiwara-dono couldn't _know _if she'd never known that pain.

Fujiwara-dono looked at her.

Then Fujiwara-dono looked at the river.

Then Fujiwara-dono went to a nearby rock, and sat down on it. She was no longer looking at anything visible to Kikuyo.

"No," Fujiwara-dono said, "but my soror mystica died quite young. Never made it to Dragon-level."

Kikuyo bit her lower lip. What had she stumbled into? Fujiwara-dono wasn't angry now, she merely looked tired. That was bad enough. Kikuyo had never seen her look tired before either.

"Did you never have another?"Kikuyo's voice had gone very small. Suddenly she didn't care about looking tough and impressing Fujiwara-dono to get her to mind her own business.

"Not really," Fujiwara-dono said. She looked up at Kikuyo, and smiled a little, but she still wasn't really seeing anything around her. "I started teaching. Shonagon-sama deemed it best. My own mistress had left the Guild, so I became Shonagon-sama's responsibility. She was the youngest of the Guild leaders at the time... When you teach, all your girls are your sorores. Not in the deepest sense, of course, but after I lost... my soror, I wasn't... able to, again. The Guild almost lost me completely, back then. It was only with Shonagon-sama's help, and through teaching, that I was able to forgive my students, and myself."

"F-forgive?..."

"They caused her death. I wasn't able to prevent it."

There was an old, old despair behind these words, older than both of Kikuyo's parents put together. She felt almost dizzy at the sound of it. She didn't know what to say.

"In a way, it was easier for me, than for you," Fujiwara-dono added, suddenly seeing Kikuyo again instead of looking wearily at her own youth.

Kikuyo was still recovering from the enormity of what Fujiwara-dono had been living with all this time, and she found this new concept difficult to take in. "How so, Fujiwara-dono?"

"I had someone to blame. I had _lots _of people to blame. You have no-one, not even Bunko-kun herself. Her death was a stupid accident – blind fate – no reason to it at all."

Kikuyo just stood silent. She seemed to hear her own grief and rage reflected in Fujiwara-dono's voice.

"You can blame me if you want."

And Kikuyo had been blaming Fujiwara-dono, of course she had, but she couldn't now, not now that Fujiwara-dono had given her permission, and now that it was clear that Fujiwara-dono was blaming herself, as she'd blamed herself for her the death of her own soror, and as Kikuyo had blamed herself for not being closer to Mistress, not being able to help her, to be at her side supporting her when it really mattered, and she'd been trying to put the blame on Fujiwara-dono instead, because Fujiwara-dono could take it –

Kikuyo's vision blurred. She was crying from sheer confusion. Her face was hot with grief. She was sitting, with no recollection of sitting or falling, and clinging to the last thing she had left to cling to, her elderly teacher, who held her, and stroked her hair, and sang softly, a familiar song...

* * *

Sachiko walked along the edge of the Scar, Yumi beside her.

"Mind you, it doesn't have anything so well-defined as an edge," Sachiko pointed out. "There is an unmistakable drop, but it's uneven, and not all the same height... the land has changed, healed itself much, since the Visitation – I'm sure it was not this green and pleasant just after. How does that work, I wonder?..."

"You don't think the gods healed it, Mistress?"

"Well, perhaps. But what was the _process_?... Grass grows again. Stones shift. What was rough and jagged becomes smooth. The weather? The wind, and the rain, and the earth, all smoothing it over, blunting the teeth of the gaping mouth of earth, closing it slowly..."

Yumi looked at her mistress, a little openmouthed. She seemed in a dark reverie as she looked at the broad valley below them, and Yumi was entranced by the combination of the natural landscape about them, which had been interfered with by some supernatural agency, the green, and the distant bluish-green of the mountains beyond, and the dappling of wildflowers of all colors about the valley, a wound taking eons to heal, and her mistress standing there speculating about it: the erectness of her carriage, the blackness of her hair and the slightly dusty dark green of her travel-robes, the deep, deep blueness of her eyes, the pale creaminess of her skin. The fingers of Yumi's right hand had been linked in the fingers of Sachiko-sama's left as they walked, and Yumi now put her other hand on Sachiko's as well, not looking at the hands, unable to take her eyes from Sachiko-sama's face.

Sachiko-sama continued to gaze at the valley a moment longer, then looked down at her left hand clasped in both of Yumi's, then looked into Yumi's eyes. Her face was unsmiling, unreadable.

Yumi continued to look into Sachiko-sama's eyes.

A slow smile now graced Sachiko-sama's lips. She put her right hand on Yumi's left, and drew Yumi closer to her side. Yumi went where her Mistress pulled, her heart beating faster.

"It's strange," Sachiko-sama said. "Once, such thoughts would have been the beginning of a fit of melancholy. No-one would have been able to get anything cheerful or even sensible out of me for at least an hour. I knew what was happening inside me, but could never prevent it. Your mere presence, the touch of your hand alone, and none of these dark thoughts _matter_... it's inexplicable. Who are you, after all? Where do you come from?"

Yumi was flustered. Even after these days as Sachiko-sama's famula, she was still sufficiently insecure to wonder if she were being rebuked for her former degraded state, though at the same time a chorus of voices rose up inside her in indignation, chiding her for ingratitude: _Sachiko-sama would never do something like that!..._

A hand caressed Yumi's cheek, a pair of lips brushed Yumi's forehead, and Sachiko-sama proved the voices right by saying, "Wherever it is, I'll bet it's somewhere good."

They walked on, taking the path that would lead down the slope, into the Scar, towards the village of Gawagawa. Yumi wondered, not for the first time, if this simple contact made Sachiko-sama feel anything like what she herself felt. – Oh, she knew what Sachiko-sama had said, but –

"Marvelous, aren't they?"

"Mistress?"

"The village."

The village. Everything Yumi had seen and heard, yesterday evening and today, flashed through her head, and she nodded fiercely. "I love them."

Mistress looked at her, a smiling inquiry. "Love?"

Yumi's step faltered. Sachiko-sama stopped, and waited.

"Before – when I was wandering –" Yumi closed her eyes. "They were always after me, the demons. Jumping out from behind bushes, or, or chasing me, it seemed like forever, until I thought I would burst from running so much. And the cruelest thing was – they would leave me alone, too, for days at a time, and I would begin to think I was free of them. And then they would come back, and it would be as bad as before – worse – until, at last, I lived in constant fear of them. But these people – they stand firm. The demons keep coming at them, and they fight back. They don't let the demons push them out. I want to be like them, I guess. I wish I had the strength of just one of the Gawagawa _children _– they –"

Sachiko-sama put her arms around Yumi and pulled her close. Yumi went willingly. Tears were stinging at her eyes.

"They are very brave," Sachiko-sama said. "But Yumi, don't compare yourself to them."

"Why not?"

"You know, if you think about it... Yumi, they have each other. That makes people stronger, having an _each other_." Sachiko-sama took Yumi's chin gently, and raised her head so that they were looking into each other's eyes. There were tears in Sachiko-sama's eyes too, though they did not fall. "You know that you can run out of strength, and it's only the thought of your friends needing you to be strong that makes you strong. You know it very well." Sachiko-sama sighed. "Yumi, I know what it is to be alone, with every hand against you. I didn't have to do it for as long as you, but I did have to do it." A tear broke and rolled down Yumi's cheek, and Sachiko-sama kissed it away. Yumi closed her eyes. "And I know what it is to have friends. You become a different person, practically. And Yumi, since I met you, there's a completely new person, again, here inside me. One I am still getting to know. Is it not the same for you?"

"I suppose," Yumi said. "I was alone, and then there was you. All the others, too, Sei-sama and Yoshino-san and Rei-sama and all the others, and I love them, but mostly there was you..." Yumi pushed her face into Sachiko-sama's shoulder. Sachiko-sama laid a hand gently on the back of Yumi's head.

They stood there for a while, holding each other. Then they broke apart, smiled at one another, a bit red-eyed, and continued on their way, still holding hands.

When Sachiko-sama stopped again, Yumi was thinking of how it might have been if she had fallen in with the Guild and Sachiko-sama hadn't been there, just her friends – what person would that have made her into? – and it took her a moment to register that Sachiko-sama was looking at something, and Yumi looked too. Many green-robed sorceresses had gathered in a crowd, some distance away, in the field past the encampment, at the foot of the cliff where the shrine was. Yumi could make nothing of it, but Sachiko-sama said, "Ah. Eriko-sama is giving a lesson."

The motion, the beginning of motion, was so gradual that Yumi did not realize Sachiko-sama was steering them toward the crowd until they were stepping over a fallen branch in the path some distance from where they had stood.

"Mistress?"

"Eriko-sama is teaching... We should see. I have always thought she would make a formidable teacher..."

Yumi did not want to be in a crowd just now. She only wanted Sachiko-sama, and the beautiful day around them. But Yumi made no argument.

They went past a lone tree, on the path up to the mountains and forest, and then past the encampment. As they drew closer, the mass of green cloaks grew, dotted here and there with an indigo kimono or smock-and-trousers: villagers. And the sound also grew, just a vague hum, because most of the crowd was listening, and Eriko-sama's words became audible bit-by-bit, at first only those moments when she raised her voice: "... a _big green one_... nonsense... a _radish?_... insidious... _never _make a... no, no, no. You are deceived in this, young – Hitomi-chan? Hitomi-chan. Words of power, and poems we use to focus power, are not strictly necessary. Have you ever heard Fujiwara-dono use any?... _I_ have. Very rarely. She mostly doesn't bother with them anymore. When we are young, we sorceresses are _making _the world do what we want it to, in some sense, but a more seasoned sorceress, such as Fujiwara-dono, more sort of coaxes the world into doing what she lets it believe it was going to do anyway. She can get away with a lot more, that way, than we can; there are limits to what you can _make_ the world do. The coaxers have more scope. – Bunko-san's fall was the sort of thing that, if it had happened to an elder sorceress, she might have spelled her own survival with a word under her breath, a gesture and a thought almost unconscious; a _cooperation _with the world, rather than a commanding of it. You don't start to learn that until you're a Winging Crane, and it's something you can spend the rest of your life learning, smoothing the seam between Dream and Waking till it's almost undetectable. I've made a start, but I'm nowhere near Fujiwara-dono's level, of course, or even Suga-sama's... but look, we're getting sidetracked here. Hitomi-chan, what do you think would be the best spell for dealing with a fall?"

".. fly?..." Yumi could just make out one word of Hitomi-san's response.

"No, no, no. If you have the power and the skill – and the _strength _– for that, then it is well, but if you're ill, you need something that's not going to take quite so much energy. What have we been talking about?... Anyone else?"

"Magic a rope ladder?"

"No..."

"Change into a bird?"

"No... even worse..."

"A leaf-charm," Sachiko-sama said.

* * *

"Who's that?" Taro-san grunted rudely. "What's a leaf-charm?"

"That's Ogasawara Sachiko-san," said Tsukasa. She was getting used to Taro-san's gruff ways and, after initial uncertainty, was finding him likable. "Touko's cousin. She's a very advanced sorceress."

"She's butting in," Taro-san complained.

"Just wait," said Touko. She and Tsukasa were sitting next to one another, and taking advantage of broad green sleeves and proximity to hold hands unobtrusively. It was strange, with all the unresolved questions between them, but Tsukasa had found that Touko's hand was creeping into hers, and had thought, _Well, I did tell her I'd take what I could get,_ and took the hand, and held it, and would hold it for as long as she was allowed to.

"Sachiko and Eriko-sama are friends," Rei-sama added. "Sachiko will help, and if it looks like she's not helping, she'll stop trying."

"Pretty," said Haru-chan, who couldn't seem to stop staring at Sachiko-sama.

* * *

The words were out of Sachiko's mouth before she knew she was going to say them. People turned to look at her, and there were muffled conversations here and there. She looked back at them calmly. She had never liked being looked at by large numbers of people, but she had found strengths since leaving her father's house she had never known she had, before, and anyway, with an arm linked with Yumi's, she felt able to take on all comers... still, she shouldn't have interrupted –

"Hello, Sacchan!" Eriko-sama said cheerfully.

"My apologies, Eriko-sama; I didn't mean –"

"Oh, it's all right. There's more than one right answer, but why a leaf-charm?"

Sachiko felt hesitant, now, but she had already committed herself, and she couldn't back down in front of Eriko-sama, and also she wanted to oblige her. "Well, the seamlessness between Dream and Waking that you speak of, I'm sure that's important, but all you need is a decent relationship with Dream, and it's the best option, I think. You need only think of leaves in autumn, wafting their way to the ground... dream yourself a leaf... maintain the dream long enough, and you needn't fear the most terrible heights in the world..."

"That's _all _you have to do, is it?" said Yuko, a bit sourly. Madoka and Momoko, sitting with her, nudged her and hissed at her, and she smirked self-consciously and went quiet.

"Yes," said Eriko-sama, looking at Yuko with a smile and a raised eyebrow. "A bit advanced, but anyone of Ox-level or greater who has been paying attention in lessons should be able to manage it."

"I know that Bunko-san had a great intuitive talent for Dream," Sachiko said. "We worked together on a few things. She must have lost consciousness completely, or I feel sure she would have used the leaf-charm. It would have been simplicity itself, for her."

There was a silence. A lot of people were looking at the ground.

"Were you thinking of another spell, Eriko-sama?" Sachiko said. Eriko-sama was very tolerant, but Sachiko didn't want to seem to be taking her lesson from her; she didn't feel up to it, for one thing: she had not yet found herself as a teacher, though Fujiwara-dono assured her that she had the gift.

"Yes, I was," Eriko-sama said. "And you certainly know it, Sacchan, but I think showing is better than telling, in this instance. Everyone, we'll go over the leaf-charm a little later. It is a good option, if you can manage it. Best of all is to follow the rules of climbing, and not to go into a difficult ravine or out on a ledge if you think you might not be well enough to cope with it. Don't worry about slowing everybody else down; if we have to stop and bury you, that slows us down much worse." Madoka let out a little scream and then clapped her hands over her mouth. No-one else made a sound. Eriko-sama was obviously deadly serious.

"We have this magnificent cliff, here. And I am going to climb up it. I will need a volunteer from the crowd to accompany me... anyone will do; no great level of skill is needed... you must all learn not to be so shy!..."

Yumi raised her hand. "I will, Torii-sama!"

There was a bit of murmuring at this. Yumi felt Sachiko-sama's hand on her back. She looked at her Mistress, and found her face unreadable as it had been at the edge of the Ditch.

"I won't if you don't want me to, Mistress," Yumi said very softly. But she _wanted _to, she wanted to do this, and she hoped Sachiko-sama wouldn't refuse her –

Perhaps Sachiko-sama sensed this. The hand clutching at the back of Yumi's robe released it, and patted her back instead. "Go on, then," Sachiko-sama said calmly.

Yumi made her way carefully among the seated students, to Torii Eriko-sama's side. "Well done, Yumi-chan," Torii-sama smiled at her. "With me, then. Please be patient, everyone."

There were stairs carved into the cliff face. The path Yumi and Sachiko-sama had come down by was a much easier ascent, but also a greater distance from the shrine, and she supposed that, as it was a watchstation, people sometimes needed to get to it quickly. "What do you have in mind, Torii-sama?" Yumi asked as they labored upwards.

"Yes," Torii-sama said shortly, as she leapt from one stone to another. "I think I just have time to teach you. It _is _a fairly simple spell, but how far along are you in your studies, Yumi?"

"I can make tea..."

* * *

Sei climbed. She wasn't sure if this cliff was the right way – the crossroads had had many roads to choose from, and the light had not been best for choosing – but here she was, climbing – so, make the most of it. She was sure there was more than one way, and if this was not the best, it _was _the one she had chosen –

She had come to the top.

Looking down was to see the kingdoms of the world spread before her. She could see night still retreating towards the west, and if she stayed long enough, and not so very long, she was certain she would see it coming back from the opposite way, creeping in from the east to ambush the known world, and all of the world she didn't know. She could sit here and watch night and day trading places indefinitely, until her sense of time approached the cosmic, and night and day seemed but shifting, evanescent aspects of the same season – but she had work to do. She turned away from the cliff's edge.

This was a sweet green and pleasant land atop the world. It was beyond night and day. The impression she got from it was glorious day, but she could see no sun; there was no source she could find for the blazing light. There was a road at her feet, leading to the cliff's edge. The other way, it went over a hillock and under a great elm tree.

She followed it.

Time seemed to have no meaning, here, but no action was possible without time for it to occur in, so her mind invented some meaning, and she passed out of the shade of the tree, and ahead of her was a shrine at the end of the road. Only it wasn't the end, as such: the shrine was situated at a crossroads, and she could see where the road she was on joined that crossroads, but she could not tell how many roads met there and wandered away again, some straight, some crooked, a few climbing into the air so that birds nested on their lower reaches, a few going into the earth, giving no clue as to their destinations. She wondered if they all led back to the world she had come from, like the one she was on. She doubted it.

She looked back at her road. The hillock, and the elm atop it, were still visible. Could she count on them to remain so, so that she could find her way home again? She turned back toward the shrine, and hummed, and then improvised a little song as she walked:

There are many ways to my heart's desire,  
Many ways to joy,  
So many ways for our hearts afire,  
To home and hearth and heart's empire,  
On this road I'm roading on,  
On this roading road.

It would give Fujiwara-dono the jim-jams, but it was a poem of sorts. Was it true? For her? Even now? Could it be?

She was at the shrine. She passed under the torii, and there it was, a simple canopy, and under it, the seated god. His eyes were closed. His face, all his skin, was red, and his brows and lashes were black, and he was clad only in a loincloth and a breastplate, so that his colors were red, and black, and gold, and white.

"Peace be upon this place," Sei called out.

The god opened one eye.

The thing that came at Sei from behind and to her right made no noise and she couldn't see it, but in the sunlight and the moonlight within her it cast a shadow. She leapt –

– from standing –

– twisted as she rose, like a hawk turning as the land spread itself below her –

– it waited below as she fell again –

– a fringe of fire round its head, no face, no eyes, and clawed paws reaching unerringly for her –

– and she sent light from her sun, and the words "couch thyself!" –

– and landed lightly on her feet, and the thing, whatever it was, had rolled away, and now lay sleeping to the right of the shrine.

Sei stood in her place again, and looked calmly at the god. Both its eyes were open now.

* * *

"Both her eyes are closed," Kieko-san whispered.

"That doesn't mean she's asleep." Yukari-san hissed back. "She's sitting up, you goof."

Kieko-san muttered inaudibly. Hikaru said nothing. She was concentrating.

The Inner Circle were currently concealed behind some bushes at the base of the stand of alder trees between the crossing of the paths and the hill that went over to the shrine. They could faintly hear oohs and aahs behind them from the base of the cliff where the stone steps were. They'd opted out of Eriko the Black's magic lesson; they were confident in their powers to cope with such a simple thing as a fall.

Besides, they had more important business.

The tough part, Hikaru had been surprised to find, had been getting rid of Sadako-chan. The little pest had insisted on following them, no matter how many mean things Kieko-san and Yukari-san said to her, and Hikaru had finally had to invent an errand to send her on, and the three of them had made a break for it. She doubted it would deter Sadako-chan long – Sadako-chan wasn't stupid, and she would find them eventually, but maybe it would delay her long enough. Hikaru thought it wouldn't be good for Sadako-chan to see what was going to happen... She was gathering her energies. She told the spell over and over in her mind. Suga-sama had stressed that this spell must not be vocalized; it was a _secret _spell, one directed, not outward at the world, but inward at the self, to stir inward energies, roil them up in a boiling tide, then a frothing foam, diamond-hard gentle bubbles teaching each other to grow, to burn. A _multiplication _of power. It didn't last, of course, but while it lasted, it was formidable. She already felt changed, as Suga-sama had said she might: her belly was cold, and her face was flushed, there was a constant glad chuckling going on inside her, and she was beginning to feel an irresistible urge to _move_, to dance, to shake, to vent all this mischievous energy she was suddenly home to.

She stood.

Kieko-san and Yukari-san gasped at her feet. Hissed "Hikaru-san!" "Are you sure you're ready?" "Shouldn't we –" They were no longer an object. She strode out toward the crossing of the paths, towards the seated vagabond, with her patched doublet and hose and her little cape flung to one side, wondering what sort of spell to use, now that she had used the spell to magnify her powers? _Pain_. Yes. Satou-sama should feel pain. How to cause pain?... _Fire_. Fire in her vitals. Or ice? Or both! Ice and fire, fire and ice. She raised her arms, and other arms raised with them. A thousand million diamond bubbles, and it was as if each bubble contained an extra Hikaru, all chuckling, all shining for her, the true original. She waved her arms, feeling the inner waves following it, shaking her with pleasure, and extended her arms toward the upstart's lap; and howled the words:

Wildfire in the hills;  
Cracks along the mountain lake –

– and her arms were knocked aside, and her head rocked back with the stinging slap on her cheek.

Mizuno Youko-sama was standing in front of her, and the simple fury in her eyes hit harder than the slap.

"How dare you," Mizuno-sama breathed. "To attack another sorceress – defenseless – You and I are going to Fujiwara-dono _this instant_ –" She reached for Hikaru's arm, but Hikaru slapped her hand.

"Get her, Hikaru-san!" Yukari-san yelled. She had always resented Mizuno-sama.

"Yukari!" Kieko-san said, grabbing Yukari-san's arm. She had always admired Mizuno-sama.

Mizuno Youko-sama's face had gone blank. Hikaru wondered if Mizuno Youko-sama had invented a new kind of mad just for her, and wriggled with pleasure at the thought. All the little Hikarus were dancing and clapping in their bubbles, and the energy she had begun to collect for Satou Sei floated chuckling among them, building slowly –

Youko felt her rage building. She outranked Oe-san very slightly – Oe-san a Molting Crane, she a Winging Crane – but that wasn't the trouble. Youko was Grand Mugwump of the Dragon Order and this bloody Oe-san had affronted her office as well as herself, but that was not the trouble either. The slap, the insult, was bad, but worse was the threat to Sei when Sei was defenseless. Youko was galvanized by this act. Hikaru must be made to pay for even thinking of such a thing. And Youko had to ensure that she never did it again. All other considerations were momentarily forgotten.

Her hand had been slapped. She waited a moment. She held Oe-san's gaze. She tried not to look like she was about to do anything. She let Oe-san smirk at her, dancing from one foot to the other –

Then her arm struck like a snake and she got Oe-san by the hair.

"Ow – _quit it!_" Oe-san bawled. Youko _twisted_. Oe-san keened. Youko said, "You will come with me to Fujiwara-dono right now, you and your friends. You will answer to her for this –"

There was a sensation very much as if Youko had run full speed into a rock, and she was flat on her back.

Youko raised herself on one arm, dizzy and astonished. Ordinarily she wouldn't fear Oe-san, but the force of that blow had been extraordinary and, looking at her adversary now, she was worried. Oe-san's face was flushed a deep red, she was still dancing from foot to foot as if she couldn't contain herself – _very _unusual for Oe-san, who came of one of the noble families and who prided herself excessively on her deportment – and her eyes seemed almost to be glowing with –

No. Strike that. They _were _glowing. With an undeniable greenish fire.

"Magical duels are forbidden to us," she told Oe-san.

"I don't want to duel you," Oe-san returned. "I just want to destroy you a little." Her arms struck out at the air between them, and Youko managed to leap up and away, just, getting nothing worse than a shower of clods of dirt and grass when the ground where she'd been lying ruptured. She moved back to that spot quickly, keeping herself between Oe-san and Sei.

"I'm _sick _to _death _of you," Oe-san said. "Your high-and-mighty airs, ordering people about. _You are a servant_." She struck at the air again – and then flew backward, squealing, struck by her own force when Youko twirled and sang a single note, deflecting the blow back at her.

Youko still didn't want to duel. She knew that Fujiwara-dono would be angry. But her alternatives were to let Oe-san keep pounding her, or to run and get Fujiwara-dono – the indignity of that would be bad enough, but what really ruled it out was that it would leave Sei at the tender mercies of Oe-san and her glowing eyes, and Youko couldn't have that. She might try to wake Sei, but it might be dangerous to disturb her, in her present state. _No._ She would sort this on her own. She would subdue Oe-san, and then –

– _could_ she subdue Oe-san? Ordinarily yes, beyond question, but Oe-san was different today...

Oe-san disentangled herself from the bush she had landed in – her little friends, oddly, didn't help her, though they were only a few paces away; they seemed to be afraid of her. "_Servant_," Oe-san hissed at Youko. "Run along to your mistress, _servant_."

Youko clenched a fist. "I'll serve you out and then _carry_ you to Fujiwara-dono," she said contemptuously.

The glowing of Oe-san's eyes had got worse, and her face, far from flushing, had gone deadly pale. She was still brushing off little leaves and broken twigs, the green glow of her eyes surrounding her head – the light was beginning to hurt Youko's eyes.

* * *

Sadako watched from her hiding place as her mistress raised her arms and seemed to pull fire from Heaven, directing it at Mizuno Youko-sama, who seemed to climb up the fire, cresting it, and leapt at her mistress, suddenly transforming into a panther, claws extended, fangs terrible; Mistress cracked a whip at the panther's face and it was drowned in a gout of water that fell from nowhere; Mistress leapt at the pool, landing with both feet and a terrific noise, sending the gout of water back up to the sky-river, but Mizuno Youko-sama, quite dry, was _behind _her, and kicked her in the bottom. Mistress sprawled forward. She got up slowly, looking at Mizuno-sama, and the glow of her eyes with the expression on her face was terrifying, the smile underneath the eyes being one Sadako had learned to dread –

_I have to get help,_ she thought. _There'll be killing next._

She was up, and running. She had worried before about someone hearing her, but it was hardly a danger now; Kieko-sama and Yukari-sama were riveted by the combat unfolding before them, and the combatants had eyes only for each other...

* * *

Near the shrine at the top of the cliff, Torii-sama made Yumi sit, crosslegged, and sat likewise, facing her, so that their knees were touching. "Torii-sama, the others are waiting –"

"This won't take long. Don't fuss, Yumi. What do you think is the difference between Dream and Waking?"

Yumi closed her eyes, and thought. "The question is whether you're asleep or not."

"Is it in truth so simple?"

Yumi didn't know.

"It's simply stated. You were succinct. But the practice of both Dream and Waking is more complicated than your mere accuracy suggests."

"I don't understand."

"You can sleep?"

"I can. And dream while I sleep."

"And you can wake?"

"Easily." Yumi wondered where this was leading.

"Excellent! Now, can you tell me how you do them?"

"Torii-sama?"

"How do you sleep, and sleeping, how do you dream? And how do you wake from the dream?"

Yumi felt that this was manifestly unfair. But she was patient. She was learning much from Sachiko-sama – a tramp knows how to be patient, patience is necessary for survival, but a tramp knows patience differently to how a sorceress does... In the end, however, she had to confess ignorance, and opened her eyes again. "I don't know, Torii-sama. Those are things I allow to happen, not things I make happen. Do you do it differently?"

"No. Again, you have phrased it well. But what we have found is a _similarity _between the two."

"The difference is – oh, before I met Sachiko-sama, I would have said that the difference was that the world of waking things is real, and the world of dreaming things isn't. But I'm no longer sure of that."

Torii-sama smiled, and leaned forward, and took Yumi's head in her hands. Yumi jumped a bit, but held Torii-sama's gaze. And everything around them disappeared, and they were no place... then, it seemed rather that where they were was just darker than where they'd been. There was scraggly grass; they were sitting on it, and Yumi felt wet earth and mud under her hands, and as her eyes adjusted, she also began to make out a cliff-face, off to her right, and there was a hole in it. A deep, dark hole, though Yumi could see a little way in, and could just make out the remains of a cook-fire, with a cold pot sitting on the embers.

"For ordinary people?" Torii-sama went on. "The things of Dream have no physical reality in Waking, as a rule. But even a philosopher who knew nothing of sorcery would likely confess that Dream can have an effect on Waking. And if we follow the cause-and-effect relationship through to its logical conclusion, we must confess that Dream has a kind of reality. What we do, as sorceresses, is tread the paths from Dream to Waking, look for the cause-and-effect relationships, look for ways to increase the effect of one upon the other. The difference is that Dream and Waking obey different sets of laws, and the laws of Waking are much more easily codified than those of Dream."

"Then you can explain the laws of Waking?"

"Not very well. They are fiendishly difficult."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said."

"Oh." Yumi felt very solemn.

"You're a quick one, Yumi." Torii-sama smiled. "I could almost envy Sachiko. But enough of that. You and I are going to fall. Towards the ground, quite rapidly."

"But then we'll hit it."

"No. We're going to brush past it."

Yumi blinked. "That sounds impossible."

"It is. By the laws of Waking. But you have already ventured far enough into Dreaming to be able to help Sachiko make a nice cup of hot, delicious tea. You said so."

"Yeees..." She hadn't told Torii-sama how they had made the tea. But something in Torii-sama's voice told her that it didn't need explaining.

"And for one who can summon an elemental omnicompetent to serve you in times of need, a task such as this should present no difficulty. Now. Here we are at the top. Our sisters are below, awaiting us. We must put on a good show."

Yumi was confused by this for a moment, until she looked off to her left, and saw that, while there was no light, there was the possibility of light, hanging like a stupefied phantasm in mid-air. Just the flaky, casual possibility of sunlight, and a clifftop, and the suggestion of an excited hum of people below, waiting. And Yumi knew. That was Waking, there in the air, or the way into Waking. To her right, the dark hole in the cliff, that was Dream. And here, where she was – these were the Lands Between.

* * *

"Are you a god?" Sei asked.

The open eyes continued to regard her. They had some suggestion, to Sei, of not quite belonging in the face they were set in, and so she wondered about this land around her, with the just-indiscernible horizons – mist or plain distance – and the sun, and the trees, and the temple, and the no-longer-visible animal that had attacked her, and the seated god itself. If none of it could be regarded as quite real – if it was all a skin or a mask for something else, as the Waking world was, in a sense, a skin concealing the world of the spirits – then what was this a mask for? _How deep do the masks go, one on top of the other?..._

She had a feeling that it would be bad form to ask the god this, and anyway she was reasonably certain it wouldn't tell her anything useful if she did ask, so instead, she said:

"You are a tricky god, but not a very fast one. There are mortals who are faster."

You are mortal.

"Yes," said Sei, "I am. That's a good trick, talking without talking. Is it difficult?"

Sei received no answer to this. It occurred to her later that a god might find such a question meaningless.

Instead, the god gave her to understand that it seldom received visitors, and when it did, the ones it already knew were friends, and the strangers were almost invariably enemies, and immortal beings of great power. The god imparted this in an offhand, not-very-interested fashion, leaving Sei to wonder why immortal beings of great power would not be fast enough to dodge; what it found to be a more compelling topic was that of who Sei was and what she was doing here? No doubt she was quite powerful, as mortals went, but mortals simply were not a usual occurrence in the god's field of vision. It could recall only one other who had actually managed the journey from the Clumsy Realms to visit it.

"Oh, well," Sei told it, "I'm a sorceress, and a traveller. I don't hobnob with gods on a daily basis, but I was asked to attempt conversation with you so as to be asking you a favor."

Sei's surroundings did not disappear; they wavered and became unsteady, and she was seated at a table, and a very, very old woman indeed was seated on the other side. The room they were in was large, airy, undecorated except for one hanging, at the other end of the room. She was not startled by the disappearance of the god and the temple; in fact, it was not until much later that she remembered that the temple had been there at all... To Sei's left, there was no wall; a series of wall panels had been removed by the servants, and the room was open to the weather. The angle of the light was such that Sei associated it with either early morning or early evening, depending on which of the compass points it was that way, but Sei felt instinctively that, with the sunlight angling so low into the room, she _should _be able to see the sun, or at least have some idea of its position; however, that worthy was curiously absent. She focused on that wall-hanging, as it was the most detailed object in sight, but it was too far, and too much in the shade for Sei, sitting in the beams of light, to make out the subject, but she nevertheless found the hanging disturbing, for reasons she could not pinpoint without standing up and walking closer to it, which she thought might be construed by her host as rudeness.

"If you come to ask a favor of me," said the very, very, very old woman across from Sei – her eyes blurred, her hair quite scraggly and white and scantly, unevenly distributed over her head, her skin pockmarked, liver-spotted, her eyes quite sunken, her hair tied back, her gnarled, writhen, asymmetrical hands folded before her on the table, her head nodding as if she might pass into sleep at any moment, her hair writhen, her –

"If I come to ask a favor of you?..." Sei prompted, patiently.

The very, very, very, very old woman stopped nodding, and looked at Sei quietly and oldly for a moment. Her hair stopped waving in the gentle breeze, just sat in its grey massiveness, flowing over her writhen shoulders. The light changed abruptly, but Sei did not look to her left; she held the old woman's eye.

"If you come to ask a favor of me," the really very old woman went on, "you must know that, even if the favor is granted, there is a price to be paid later. If I stand aside now to let your party pass, on a day when I should hold you in place, then on another day, no matter how tired I am – no matter how old, old and tired – on another day, a day when I should stand aside for you, I must suddenly block your way, no matter how tired and impatient you all become, and no matter how writhen my shoulders are. I am required by the very art of my..." Here the very terribly extremely old woman paused, as if searching for the right phrase.

"... of your writhen ankles?" Sei suggested cheerfully.

"Don't interrupt," said the heinously old woman sharply. "As I was saying... by the very art of my... my requirements being three in number, as my brother goddesses at the other winds are three in number..."

"... their teeth writhen, their eyes crossed, their teeth numberless as the sands in their teeth..." Sei was looking around, anywhere but at the oldish woman.

"... you've got me muddled... my teeth crossed against writhen intruders... my... my..."

"What _is _on that hanging over there?" Sei barked suddenly. She rose, and crossed the room –

DON'T DO THAT! the god howled behind her, and Sei turned quickly, her sword out, up for a parry, and the one-note song of the meeting swords rang in the chamber like the call of a doomed bird.

The god's face was red and frowning, ferocious, the sort of face that would have terrified many people who were not Sei. Sei had met a red-faced god before.

"I feel privileged to behold your reverently crossed eyes and your writhen sword," Sei said happily.

The god stepped back a pace, lowering the wreath of wildflowers it had raised. Flowers, now. Sei sat in a field of wildflowers, and not far from her a child – might be a boy, might be a girl – was making a chain of wildflowers. Sei could not tell just where the chain began or ended. The child was talking to itself in a singsong way, and it took Sei a few moments to realize that it was actually carrying on the conversation. "We'll have these flowers at our supper, some of them are eatables... and we'll have miso and good fish and rice-cake... and we'll have to ask father's permission, but maybe you can go, maybe you can go... to the mountain where the sun shines and sets, and waits to teach you... oh, you should be taught a lesson. You should all be taught a lesson. My poor ears, says obaa-chan. My poor toes..."

"What can I give you, little one?" Sei asked the child. She went low in the grass, so that she looked up at the child's face.

"Give me?" the child wondered, looking at Sei for the first time.

"To let us go. What is your price?"

"What price?" The child sounded bored.

"There's always a price," Sei said.

The long grass nearby rustled, and there was a cat. A scarred old tom with one ear missing. It was looking at the child.

The child laughed, and clapped. "Neko-san! Clever Neko-san..." The child trailed off. The child looked at Sei, with sudden suspicion in its face, and dawning suns in its eyes. "Is that your cat?"

"My friend," Sei qualified gently.

The cat yowled growlingly, and licked its lips, still looking at the child. Its eyes shone amber, with birds trapped in them, wriggling horribly.

"Make it go away," the child whined.

"It only wants to be friends."

MAKE IT GO AWAY

They were back at the temple. The god's red face, more confused than angry, dawned upon Sei like a red sun. The cat was in the tree, still looking at the god.

You are difficult, the god said.

It was probably a complaint, somewhere, but it sounded more like the god was informing her of it, or perhaps reassuring her of it.

"I'm not, really," Sei said. "I want a very simple thing. Once I have it, I go away and I'm no further trouble. Unless I've been lied to. Then there might be trouble."

I have never been talked to that way by a mortal.

"I'm impossible, I know," Sei said kindly. "You can chastise me for't, an it please you. Give me a taste of the lash."

What do you want?

Sei simply waited.

You wish for the moon, like all mortals. You are simply better at concealing it than most. There is much you should know, perhaps. Much that will be helpful for you to know later. The Lady is waking, and there are traps set in the dark. You will find a bitter thing in the snow, a bitter, useless thing. Tears will freeze on the stone, and blood. You will not know the way. The wrong way, in the dark and cold, and your strange friend dead at your feet.

Sei said nothing.

You don't care?

"That's all to come," Sei said. "There's always some bad coming. But I won't be a slave to it. I won't weep in the darkness for always. Even if I asked for your help, I doubt you could help me. It's not your area. _This_, what I am asking you, _is_."

Then Sei saw that there was a young woman seated on the ground nearby, to the right of the shrine. She did not appear to be in meditation. She was looking at her crossed ankles, and thinking, it seemed. Her head was shaved. There was something about her expression that tugged at Sei's heart, an urgent, sad consideration, a visible inner turmoil. Sei began to cry. And then, she began to adore the woman.

And only then did she realize she was looking at Shiori.

She turned back to glare at the East Wind. "D'ye think this is funny, then?" she demanded of it. "A great laugh?"

The god merely looked at her, like a whole ocean looking. But Sei saw the question as dragonflies making crosshatches in the air about the god's head: if you can't stand this, then how will you deal when the time comes, past the river and in the snows?

Eloquent dragonflies, Sei thought bitterly.

She went to Shiori, and sat in front of her. Crossed her legs, too. So that their knees were almost touching. And she looked at her.

Shiori did not return the favor.

"I remember you," Sei said, "or who you appear to be."

Shiori said nothing.

"Did something to your hair, didn't you?"

Still nothing.

"You left me," Sei said.

Shiori looked up at her, but still did not speak.

"If you had to, you had to," Sei said. "But do you blame me? Please tell me."

Just looking. In Sei's eyes, falling into Sei's eyes, becoming Sei's eyes, her mind again, as before, as the first time she'd known there was a Shiori, by a pool on a grassy hill worlds away. It was her. That morning, and the mornings they had had together since, all too few – It was truly her.

"I must know," Sei said, her voice breaking. "Did you cry out – were there fireflies – did I abandon you?"

Shiori looked away again. She looked at her hands, which held rosary beads. And she began to chant a sutra.

Sei was about to reach out, to take Shiori's face in her hands and gently make her look up, _look at me, lov_e – and stopped herself.

Instead, she leaned slightly forward, then, and whispered _"You are old time, and nothing else but dirt, and stone, and dried spit."_

Shiori snarled and lashed out, and Sei caught her red hand on one wrist before the slap could land, and rolled back, a backwards somersault, and was up, bouncing lightly on her feet.

The red god of the East Wind sat before her. There had never been anyone else.

It is dangerous to insult me, said the god.

"I might say the same," said Sei, "and I serve notice on the universe that the next creature to impersonate my beloved is going to have a sword in his guts before he realizes what's happened. I am becoming impatient with tricks, and dreams that imitate sunlight and old love. Have we a bargain, or haven't we?"

The bell rang, in the shrine to their left, or Sei supposed it must have, because its reverberations rose, and became part of the very light – it _was _the light, that was what the light had been all the time – and Sei held fast to herself because the bell was the thing likeliest to loose her from her moorings and set her adrift in no sea she knew. There was a sudden worry, even a fright, that constricted her chest. _Calm, calm,_ she told herself. _It's not your usual day, but what's your usual day?_

Good luck now, said the god. Ill luck later.

"If we must," Sei said. "We'll take what comes. We always have." Still there was that fear... Sei wouldn't ordinarily worry over something like this. Oh, maybe there was something to worry about, buried in it, but what was the point?

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"We thank you for your assistance," Sei said, with a bow. The god's eyes had closed again. Interview at an end, which really was just as well, for Sei had to be going. There was something about this that was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time, like a piece of her was calling to another piece of her for help, a piece calling that _never _called for help –

_Youko._

Sei turned back toward the cliff's edge and pelted. She ran as one made of running, and she almost flew, and then she was over the cliff's edge, and then she did fly, she was a dragon again, launching into the ocean air, flaming in a furious descent, _Youko needs me, Youko's in trouble, YOUKO –_

* * *

Hikaru had the hoity-toity upstart where she wanted her at last, on the ground, her clothes torn by repeated blasts, but not begging. Hikaru wanted this Mizuno to beg, it was all she was fit for. She wanted this Mizuno to cringe, imploring for Oe mercy, and then find –

She was rocked back by a sudden bolt of force. _Slapped again._ It didn't knock her down, but it made her step back stumbling, if only because of the unexpectedness – it certainly wasn't very _much _force, compared with what was inside her now.

Someone was between her and her prey. Honey-gold hair, a classically lovely face with a gentle expression, a gentleness something belied by the angry red light in which her pretty fist was bathed.

"Back away, Oe-san."

It was the temple girl, Todo Shimako-san. Well, this was annoying. Not that it wouldn't be a pleasure to destroy – teach – this one as well as the scullery girl, but Todo-san had never done anything particular to her, and she wanted to savor the annihilation – chastisement, yes, – of Miss Boss-around Belle, and Todo-san was interrupting. "Why don't you step away for a little while, Todo-san?" she said sweetly. "I have business with this one, but that won't take long, and then I'll be happy to –"

"Your business is with SATOU-SAMA, Hikaru-san!" Yukari-san hissed from somewhere behind her. "Satou Sei-sama! Don't you remember?"

"Shimako-san, just come away, please," said another voice worriedly. Hikaru spared a little glare for the source. A common-looking little thing, shoulder-length hair. Probably had a crush on Todo-san or something. How annoying. Some of these girls got so carried away with their little attachments. Still, she was giving Todo-san very good advice.

"Noriko-chan, go get help," Todo-san said calmly. "Fujiwara-dono for preference, but Eriko-sama or Sachiko-sama will do. I'm staying here. She'll kill Youko-sama otherwise."

What nonsense! Hikaru wasn't going to kill anyone. Maybe just maim her a little... maybe give her a scar to match her precious Satou.

Noriko-chan was going, and Hikaru liked that, but also _didn't_. She didn't want her bringing someone who might have the power to ruin the fun. She sent a boiling ball of blue fire at the retreating back of Noriko-chan –

There was a triple clap in the air, the smell of sulphur, and the ball of blue flame rolled back over Hikaru. It didn't hurt, she'd reached too high a height for something like that to hurt her, but it crisped her hair a little.

Todo-san's face was still gentle, but it had gone pale now, and there was something decidedly steely in her eyes. Hikaru realized that Miss Good Girl Temple Maiden Dutybound was angry.

"If you ever try to hurt her again," Todo-san said quietly, "I will ruin you."

Hikaru stared.

Then she struck like a snake. Todo-san gasped. Any sorceress suddenly clasped in a giant fist of ice might do so.

"So," Hikaru chirped. "You reciprocate her feelings. Good news for Nori-chin, I feel sure."

Todo-san just looked at her.

"You will ruin me?" Hikaru said softly.

Then, Hikaru's robe caught on fire. Again.

It was easy enough to put out, as it had been when Mizuno-sama had done it, but she was distracted enough, if only for an instant, that Todo-san was freed of her grip. When she looked again, the temple girl had one hand up as a shield and the other on the Mizuno's chest. Miss Prim and Pretty was sweating rather unbecomingly. Hikaru was most pleased to see it.

"You look like a peasant laboring in the fields," she said happily. "Strange that someone as attractive as you can look so subhuman."

"I don't really care what I look like, Oe-san," Todo-san said in a calm, annoying way. "I do like to look well, but it's not as important as my friends, or the preservation of life... What is important to you? What is so important that you would kill?"

"What do you mean, kill? You said that before. I haven't –"

"Youko-sama," Todo-san interrupted, very coldly. "The spark of her life was nearly extinguished when I got here. And that blue fire would have killed Noriko-chan, if I hadn't stopped it."

"Hikaru-san, she's right," said Kieko-san urgently. "The spell has gone wrong. You have to stop or something dreadful will happen."

Hikaru stamped her foot and the earth cracked beneath her. "I haven't killed anyone! I don't kill anyone! I'll show you what I do! –"

Hikaru needed more power. She could already beat any one of them, but she wanted to silence them all. Of course, said the power, the chuckling in her chest, all the power you want. Ask, and it will be there. And it was there. Hikaru could feel it growing. She was growing. She swelled. She could see the distortion in the air in front of her face, from the heat she felt there. She smiled, showing her teeth, and Todo-san looked shocked.

"Now," said Hikaru. "Now." She felt full. Like a huge tub filled with hot water, straining at its seams. "Now. Are you ready for this?" This dream. This.

It was her hand. It was part of her hand. It parted from her hand, detached itself, leaving her whole hand behind. It was large, and at first it looked like flesh, but then it was consumed by liquid green fire, which kept the shape of a hand, a boiling green spider, which ran at Todo-san, growing more as it ran, till it was twice Todo-san's size – big enough to eat her AND the Mizuno –

_"Hikaru-san, stop!" "Don't!"_ screamed Kieko-san and Yukari-san, but it was too late, the spider was on Todo-san –

– then it was coming back, closer to Hikaru – she couldn't see around it very well, but Todo-san seemed to be holding her own – _she can't destroy it, she hasn't the power, but she's fending it off –_

_MORE POWER! I NEED_ MORE_!_

Of course, of course.

The giant tub of hot water had grown _wings_ of water, heavy in the air behind her. She urged the spider forward –

– it stood in one place for a moment, right between –

– she saw Todo-san's face over its shining green back,_ the last time I will see her face so pretty,_ looking for fear, despair, saw only the beautiful face, pale as before, but set, one hand out to push the spider back –

_– push it forward –_

_– FORWARD –_

The spider simply burst.

Hikaru put up an arm to ward herself against fragments, but there wasn't even the heat you'd expect from such an explosion. Just a vile green fire-flower, obscuring her view of everything and – gone.

Leaving only Todo-san kneeling and Mizuno-sama supine on the ground –

– and Satou Sei-sama standing tall and lanky, a bit crouched, between them and Hikaru. A little green fire still coruscating around her left hand. Her sword in her right hand. Her face pale, unsmiling, her scar in stark relief.

_She's angry. I don't think I've ever seen her angry before._

Hikaru felt fear. For a moment.

* * *

As Yumi fell, she wondered if she'd understood Eriko-sama completely.

It was too late to wonder about that, of course. But to fall past the ground – a simple trick –

It was simple, really. Now she was seeing the ground coming towards her, faster and faster, why it got simpler the closer the ground came – a matter of very careful timing – too soon, and she might go off in some unfathomable direction. Too late, and – well.

The moment came, and Yumi found herself ready.

The portal to Dream, where Sachiko-sama had been teaching her to be all that time they were making tea together, was more difficult to attain when one was in midair, descending rapidly, but Yumi had had a good deal of practice. And at the exact moment she heard Eriko-sama, falling beside her, say "now!", she opened the portal, just a crack –

– just big enough for a girl to fall through –

– and, at the threshold of Dream, she was able to turn her momentum as Eriko-sama had explained. It was easier if you made it a water dream. Yumi was good with water. She swam, turned, was facing the portal again, daylight coming in through it in all directions.

Now the difficulty was to place the portal properly – but she just tried the flipping motion Eriko-sama had suggested –

– and she was falling back, back toward the portal, the distance figured – exactly right? Close enough? She would see in a moment – to pass through the portal just at the moment she crested in her rise –

It was shortly before the crest, in fact, so she crested several _shaku_ beyond the portal, which meant that was the distance she had to fall to earth.

In other words, she had traded a lethal fall for a merely injurious one, which was progress, but maybe not fast enough progress.

If she'd thought about it, it might have been more dignified to fall back through the open portal, and use her new momentum to try again, but she was flustered, and she closed the portal at the moment she crested as per Eriko-sama's instructions.

And she was falling towards bare earth.

When she thought about it later, she knew _this_ fall wouldn't have been bad enough to kill her, or even to really injure her. She would have had the wind knocked out of her at worst. But she panicked.

And she was caught.

From the shrieks and – curses? from such proper young ladies? – she supposed the upheaval of the earth must have been scary. But the purpose had been served. Yumi was cradled in the arms of her earth creature – who was rather larger and more formidable than at his last appearance. A lighter brown, too – the soil in this rocky patch was not the dark, rich brown of the forests of Mount Hiei. But he was holding together well, in spite of the lack of moisture. He held Yumi up, cradling her in his two enormous hands, turning her now this way, now that, so that all the girls could see. She could also see, with the aid of peripheral vision, that he was striking poses, showing off his big legs to their best advantage.

"You can put me down now," Yumi said gently.

The earth creature hesitated, then, with an air almost of sheepishness, placed her gently on the ground, feet down.

* * *

There was some panic among the villagers in the crowd. Taro-san had pulled his bludgeon from the loop on his belt. "Demon!" he hissed.

"No, it's not," Haru-chan said.

"Wha'?" Taro-san squinted at Haru-chan.

"Look at it," Haru-chan said. "_Feel_ it, with your head. It's big, and it could do a lot of damage if it wanted to. But it caught Yumi-san. It seems to be Yumi-san's friend."

"It really isn't harmful," Rei told Taro-san. "I've seen it a few times. It actually helped Sachiko and Yumi to fight a demon that turned up a while back. I'm not sure just what it is, but it's helped us too many times for me to mistrust it."

"Ah!" Taro-san stared at the earth creature a moment longer, and then, improbably, smiled.

* * *

One of the villagers began to clap and whistle.

Yumi realized that everyone was staring at her in open-mouthed admiration. A few even looked sickly envious.

Yumi bowed to them. Then, feeling that it was arrogant of her to take too much credit, she indicated with a grand sweep of her arms her earth creature, who bowed very deeply and grandiosely indeed.

Only now did it occur to her that Eriko-sama might be annoyed – Yumi had improvised, had departed from the plan agreed upon – but when she looked wildly about and found her, Eriko-sama was doubled over with laughter.

Sachiko-sama was coming towards Yumi. She was a little pale. Yumi wondered if Sachiko-sama was angry. But all Sachiko-sama said was, "You're all right?" and Yumi nodded, and Sachiko-sama sighed, shook her head a little, and offered Yumi her arm. Yumi took it, feeling guilty that she had made Sachiko-sama worry, and happy that Sachiko-sama had been worried about her.

Eriko-sama seemed to have regained control. Wiping at her eyes, she said to her students, "Well, Yumi and her beautiful assistant Mudwort have a rather novel approach, but I think you get the idea. If you've done the basic exercises around the portal of Dream, as anyone has who's been studying a month or two, this technique should be within your abilities; just ask your mistress's help if you're going to experiment with it. If you're a famula who hasn't yet begun formal studies, all I can say is, stay close to your mistress, obey the basic rules of climbing as I said before, and hope... for... the best..."

Eriko-sama was trailing off, and looking curiously at a girl who was running up to them, a girl who was out-of-breath and pale. She hadn't spoken yet, but Yumi recognized Sadako, and was sure suddenly that something was wrong; the quiet girl carried an aura of disaster with her. The class was murmuring and looking at one another.

She ran straight up to Yumi, and nearly collapsed right then. Yumi put her hands on her shoulders to steady her. "Sadako-san –"

"Yumi-san – Sachiko-sama – Mizuno-sama is in trouble – dying –"

"What!" Sachiko-sama was alert, and suddenly had that look about her that made the class draw back from her a bit. "What has happened? Explain!"

"Being attacked – happening right now – my mistress, Hikaru-sama – she used some spell to make herself more powerful –"

"Where? Take us there at once!"

"Sadako-san –" Yumi thought her friend might be too tired, but Sadako-san immediately turned, beckoning, and ran. Sachiko and Yumi, and Eriko-sama, followed. Yumi heard giant thudding sounds behind them, and glanced back to see the earth creature lumbering after them determinedly, Rei-sama and Noriko-san beside him, with two villagers Yumi didn't know, and, despite some hesitations here and there, the whole class following, chattering excitedly. Madoka was saying to Yuko and Momoko, "And I thought _I_ had a difficult mistress!..."

* * *

Fujiwara Akiko was dreaming, and perfectly well aware of it. Some people, finding themselves sitting in a bedchamber they had not occupied in one hundred years, with the sun coming through the shutters from entirely the wrong direction, and finding that they are comforting a baby dragon and teaching it how to play spot-the-quotation – "It's more fun if you know more poems, darling. Let me teach some to you." "Growf?" – would just go with events as they came and not know it was a dream until they woke up from it. But Fujiwara Akiko was almost professionally _required_ to know when she was dreaming and when not, and this one was particularly easy to spot – sometimes her Dreaming mind was portentous, sometimes frightening, sometimes engagingly cryptic – a plethora of possible modes, really – but sometimes it was simply silly, and this was one of those occasions. Still, she was going along with it – the dragon was ugly, but still appealing somehow, as babies often are, even when they are hatching on rocks and covered in generative slime. And the activity was pleasant; it recalled happy childhood days of reading poems alone, and playing this challenging game with the few friends who might play it with her.

The dragon was not a particularly challenging opponent, however – at least, not until it opened its mouth and, instead of saying "growf?", said:

"Fujiwara-dono?... Fujiwara-dono?... Are you there?..."

"Ah. Suga-san. You have caught me napping, it seems."

"Oh." Suga-san's voice, muffled at the edges by distance and variable weather patterns, and by the quaint digestive system of the dragon, sounded startled. "Unusual."

"Why are you contacting me? Not that it's not a pleasure to hear from you, but is there trouble?"

The dragon raised its eyebrows and began to nibble at the hem of Akiko's robes. "Trouble?" it mumbled, snarfling a bit. "Yes, you might say that. The protections are failing, Fujiwara no Yukinaga might be plotting against the Emperor, Shonagon-sama has vanished, probably for good, and demons are marching upon us, or perhaps are already here. This tastes good. What is it?"

Fujiwara Akiko put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "It was my favorite robe when I was a girl. I was sure they wore this particular pattern of plum blossom and wistaria branch in Heaven. I was a fanciful child. I am glad it pleases you. Your precis of recent events is strangely riveting. Could I possibly have some details?"

"You certainly can," said Suga-san, and obliged, copiously.

By the time Suga-dragon-san had finished her account, she had eaten most of the right sleeve of Akiko's robe, and several scrolls of Akiko's old _Kokinshu_. And Akiko had a headache. "I see," she said. _Shonagon-sama._ "It is strange to reflect that I left the City only half a month ago."

"Is the Questioning going well, at least?"

"Not especially. Minamoto Bunko-kun fell to her death, yesterday."

"Oh. Oh, dear. I'm very sorry to hear that. She was a good student."

"She was. I'm letting Mizuno-san handle things while I look after Ayanokouji Kikuyo-kun, Minamoto-kun's soror. But I'm going to have to take up the yoke again soon." _Shonagon-sama? Gone?_ "Is there anything else?"

"No, Fujiwara-dono, I believe that's everything... Is Oe Hikaru-kun all right?"

Akiko frowned, but said only "As far as I know, she is... Well. The Protections are a bit difficult to put into words. When you have a moment, go down to the Rasho Mon at sunset. Look at the old heap, both in Dream and Waking. Run through the Major Wards in your head. The structure is something I improvised, not quite a Ward in the technical sense, but if you follow those steps it should be clear enough. There is another at each of the compass gates around the city. Send to me again if you run into difficulties."

"I'll start tomorrow. And the Emperor?"

"I'll want to have a word with Yukinaga when I get back... He's very clever and resourceful, but sometimes I think he forgets who put him where he is. In the meantime, I suppose you and Kashiwagi-san will have to look after the Emperor as best you can."

"Fujiwara-dono, will you give me the authority to deal with Yukinaga as I see fit?" The dragon was sitting on its haunches, its front paws raised, its head cocked quizzically to one side. Charred bits of _Kokinshu_ were still to be seen clinging to its chops.

"No. Cute as you are right now, I cannot do that, Suga-san."

"Cute?... Perhaps you _must_, Fujiwara-dono."

"Cannot. Yukinaga is my family, as Rokutoru is... You are clever, and so is Kashiwagi-san in his young way. Between you, you should be able to circumvent him. If the situation changes, send again, and I will reassess."

"I think you are making a mistake, Fujiwara-dono. But I comply with your wishes, as always. I'm still hungry."

"Try the garden. Through those doors, there. Some quite nutritious weeds."

"Growf," said Suga-dragon-san, and bounded in the direction Akiko had indicated, smashing through the garden doors, and cavorting out into the improbably misty afternoon, where the sun hung low in the north, and began eating the large querulous insects on the garden stones, who complained, and called her names. _Bloody silly dream,_ Akiko thought, and pondered... pondered... letting her mind blossom slowly into wakefulness...

She had fallen asleep with Kikuyo-kun's head in her lap. On being shaken awake by Noriko-kun, she was irritable and disoriented. It was very unusual for her to be caught sleeping by a student – in fact, apart from Amaya-kun when they had been mistress and famula, it hadn't happened since the days of Emperor Horikawa. "What is it, Noriko-kun? I am engaged, as you see, in sleeping." Kikuyo-kun hadn't shifted yet. Probably still napping. The poor girl had exhausted herself with grief.

"Fujiwara-dono, Mizuno Youko-sama is being attacked! by Oe Hikaru-sama! The bitch has half-killed her! Shimako-san is defending Mizuno-sama, but I don't know how long she'll last –"

"What – Hikaru-kun?" Akiko was puzzled. "Hikaru-kun doesn't have the power or the skill needed to defeat Mizuno-san. A competent student, but nothing out of the way – dear Kikuyo, I need to get up, now –"

Kikuyo was sleepy, and seemed embarrassed, though she had no need to be. But as Noriko-kun explained recent events, in a rapid-fire manner, as she urged them along with everything except blows, as they walked in the direction of the depredations of Hikaru-kun, Kikuyo became more alert, and seemed to show a real interest in current events for the first time since Bunko-kun's death. "And why is Hikaru-san doing all this?" she interrupted fiercely at one point. "_Why_, Noriko-san?"

"I might have misunderstood – but I think that Satou-sama was the one she really wanted to attack – Satou-sama is in meditation at the crossing paths. It was only that Mizuno-sama got in Hikaru-sama's way, thwarted her –"

"The fool! The selfish, witless fool!" Kikuyo's face had gone quite pale. "I told her no good could come of this – Fujiwara-dono, I am ashamed – I should have –"

"Self-castigation later," Akiko ruled, "when there is time. I have only one more question: why are we walking?"

So they ran. Kikuyo and Noriko-kun seemed startled by the pace Akiko set, which irked her a little, but perhaps it was understandable –

* * *

"Ah," Hikaru breathed. "My _true _enemy. My rival. I'm so glad you've woken from your little nap."

"What have you done to Youko?" Satou-sama asked. She took a step toward Hikaru. She had not sheathed her sword.

"I was chastising her," said Hikaru. "She thought she could chastise _me_. Ideas above her station. So I corrected her."

Satou-sama was trembling slightly. She half-turned, to say, "How is Youko, Shimako?"

"I've nearly lost her twice," Todo-san answered shortly. She was kneeling beside Mizuno-sama with a hand on Mizuno-sama's head, another on her heart. Eyes closed. "I need to be left alone."

Satou-sama looked at Hikaru full-face again. If Hikaru were not the leviathan in an ocean of power she would probably have fled. She'd thought Satou-sama was angry before, but this face was far more terrible.

"If she dies –"

"I DON'T CARE!" Hikaru howled, and the power leapt out of her, a green fist, slamming at Satou-sama repeatedly. "I HATE YOU! I HATE HER! I HATE ALL OF YOU! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

There was a horrible pain in Hikaru's arm, like it was being twisted by someone who was seriously trying to break it. She shrieked.

Her green fist had dissolved, and Satou-sama was walking toward her.

Hikaru whimpered and stepped back. Then, for that, for making her do that, her hatred for Satou-sama was too much suddenly even for howls. She raised her arms –

* * *

"There's a wicked power," Haru-chan shouted, pulling even with Sachiko, and passing her. "What is it doing here? Where did it come from? I have to see –"

"Haru-san!" came Noriko's voice from behind. "It's too dangerous!"

Then a huge ball of boiling fire was coming at them. There was a moment, rounding the hill, when everyone at the head of the column was in suspense, staring in astonishment at the sun come to earth, increasing its size, growing hotter and nearer by the instant. Rei instinctively moved in front of Noriko. Then Sachiko grabbed Haru-chan, starting to push Haru-chan behind her, and her other arm, upraised, was bathed in red fire –

– and then the sun was eclipsed by nimble earth.

* * *

The fire was flying out of her in big green lumps, in large floppy missiles. They were flying randomly, try as she might to direct them. One just barely missed Yukari-san and Kieko-san, where they cowered behind a bush. NO! STOP! she told the power. JUST SATOU-SAMA! NO-ONE ELSE! JUST SATOU-SAMA! But the power only chuckled, and the missiles kept flying – there were a lot of people turning up suddenly, from around the hill, _Eriko the Black's magic lesson_, and a huge ball of fire streaked toward them, out of control, but there was suddenly a giant man made of earth in front of them, using a tree to brace itself, and it took the full force of the blast –

– Hikaru was confused. About everything. The only certainty was, _I was its tool. All along, it was the one in control_ –

– _Suga-sama, how do I make it STOP?_

But she noticed then that none of the missiles was hitting anything anymore. They were flowering in the air, like the spider had, leaving a green mist, and then nothing. Also, their pathways were being drawn back to Hikaru's original target, Satou-sama, drawn tighter as if by a leash, and there was a constantly shifting green bouquet in the air there just above her, of missiles bursting before they could get to Satou-sama, and Satou-sama was striding forward, and the bouquet was receding, toward Hikaru, and the green fire danced and flailed about Satou-sama's extended left fist, and her sword shone green in the light, and her face was set, commanding, her grey eyes flashing imperiously, _she rules, all along it has been she who ruled, but you never saw it, her touch is light, loose, yet sure,_ it was the pale face of a queen, a king, a master, a mistress coming toward her, and she knew it was Satou-sama leashing the fireballs because it certainly wasn't she, Hikaru, and it wasn't the Chuckler, because it had ceased to chuckle, it was screaming, NO! MY POWER! MINE!

Satou-sama extended her pulsing green fist toward Hikaru, and spoke one word:

"Break."

And she twisted her fist in the empty air.

The Chuckler's screams cut off sharply. Hikaru gasped, and staggered –

Hikaru was alone, with only her own power. _Just a high-born girl with ideas above her station,_ she thought wildly. And Satou-sama was coming for her, her sword raised. Hikaru retreated too quickly – she was clumsy, she hadn't yet readjusted to moving without the Chuckler, and without the whole hot ocean of heavy power inside her, and she stumbled, and fell. And Satou-sama was closing in. Hikaru raised a useless arm – "No – please –"

And someone was standing between her and Satou-sama, in the very small space that was there. A tall someone with long black hair and erect, dignified carriage. A lady. A true lady if ever one was born and reared.

"No, Sé."

All was still for a moment.

"Sachiko, I think that's first time you've called me that." Satou-sama looked mildly astonished. Her sword was still raised.

"May I not?"

"Yes. Of all people, I think you may. Step aside for a moment."

"No."

"I'm going to kill her."

"No. You're not."

"She's right," said another voice. "You're not."

Fujiwara-dono's voice.

Hikaru couldn't seem to look anywhere but at Satou-sama, who was looking agreeably confused. A little more like how she usually looked. Her scar didn't seem to be taking up her whole face anymore. She was looking in the direction Fujiwara-dono's voice was coming from, and then she looked back at Ogasawara-san.

"Sei, please sheath your sword," Ogasawara-san said. "You don't need to kill her. The dangerous part... is gone. You banished it yourself."

"She summoned it. That means, however you dance it, that she's as dangerous as it is."

Ogasawara-san looked at Fujiwara-dono.

"You have a point," Fujiwara-dono conceded. "But this danger has to be handled in a different way."

There was a stretch of silence. The whole Guild was looking at Satou-sama. She only looked at Fujiwara-dono. Then she looked at Hikaru.

"For now," she said brusquely. Then she seemed to have another thought, and added, "I'm not your rival, you know."

Hikaru blinked.

"You have nothing that I want," Satou-sama explained helpfully, "and my awareness of your existence has never been better than marginal. Perhaps that was my mistake. Perhaps being ignored just makes some people dangerous... I never took sufficient interest in you to know just what in the flaming hells might be your gripe, but I think I see it now. You're one of those girls who finds the unconventional social order of our little Guild too unconventional to accept?"

Hikaru said nothing.

"I'll let Fujiwara-dono deal with you, then," Satou-sama said. "She knows how."

Satou-sama's sword made a rasping noise going back in its sheath. Then she turned and went back toward Mizuno-sama. Ogasawara-san followed her. So did her famula, the tramp girl. Everyone was here. Everyone was looking at Hikaru. Hikaru was still lying on the ground. She felt that it was impossible to move. She never wanted anyone to look at her again.

Fujiwara-dono was standing over her. "Hikaru-kun," she said. "A word in your ear, if you please." She had a hand extended to her.

Hikaru wondered if anyone would ever smile at her again. She couldn't look at Yukari-san and Kieko-san, and when she glanced briefly at where she'd last seen them, they were gone. She took Fujiwara-dono's hand to help herself up – gingerly, but the old woman's grip was quite strong.

"Come apart with me a ways."

Hikaru did this willingly, or unwillingly, depending which part of her body you asked.

* * *

Shimako was holding Youko-sama in her mind, keeping her here, and trying to repair things that were broken, mend things that were torn. Youko-sama had nearly slipped away before, as she'd told Sei, but she wondered now if that wasn't her own fault? The necessity of fighting Oe-san had given her the fresh perspective she'd been pining for earlier in the day, if in a more rude and brutal manner than she'd been hoping for. Oe-san ascendant was an implacable enemy, and death –

– death was not – it was only what waited after all other enemies had had their way. Having to split her concentration between holding and helping, that was the hard part, and it had nearly destroyed her when she'd done it for that Katsuko cat back at Yamiko-sama's. That had been easier, because Katsuko-neko had been fighting too, had been conscious and determined to live. Youko-sama was unconscious...

_Become her. Just for a moment, become her..._

That was what Sachiko-sama had told her, when she'd given Shimako some private coaching. Shimako still wasn't sure what she had meant...

_You are already splitting your concentration. You are very good at fixing things, aren't you? And once you know how, that part is almost inevitable. Instead of holding her, clinging to her, _become_ her. Just for a moment..._

She wasn't sure if that was Sachiko-sama or herself. She wasn't sure it mattered. _Become her. Become her..._ She had to try. She had the feeling she was going to lose Youko-sama otherwise...

In Waking, she still knelt at Youko-sama's side, fixing things. There was a blue haze over everything, which Shimako always saw when she healed. On the other side of the portal of Dream, however, Dream-Shimako slipped down beside Dream-Youko, embraced her, and they became one... in a wood, under dark grey skies and bare branches...

* * *

_It began to rain. She was walking along the path, toward she knew not what, when she stopped herself._ It's too soon, isn't it? There was something else you wanted to do.

_She stood in the wet, smelling wet, and wet wood, and mold, and earth. There were things living in this forest, wet, waiting to see what she would do. There was a destination ahead which she was unsure of. And now there was a voice in her head, in her hood, speaking to her, and she didn't know if it was herself, or someone else._

I don't remember. It's raining. Are you sure?

What do you remember?

Fighting – being beaten –

Before that.

_It was warm inside her hood. Ahead, the wood stretched and weaved, branch into branch, wet and cold, from grey into black._

Remember?

_She turned. She was trying to remember. While she tried, at the urging of the voice – her own voice? – she strolled, nonchalantly, without seeming intent_, _back the way she had come..._

* * *

The wood around, and the warmth inside the hood, had been so real that for a moment, kneeling again at Youko-sama's side, Shimako wasn't sure who or where she was. She remembered, with a little jump – looked frantically at the inside of poor Youko-sama's head and hands, and almost wept with relief when she found that the repairs had progressed in her absence. She wasn't sure how long it had been, but she didn't think it was too long. She stole a glance in the direction she'd last seen Sei facing Oe-san. She was rewarded with the sight of Sei striding back toward her, her face pale. Yumi-san and Sachiko-sama were with her, as was a giant made of earth. This last worried Shimako for a moment, until she remembered Yumi-san's peculiar elemental friend. He was looking a bit scorched, but seemed whole. Behind the giant, she could just make out Oe-san being escorted away by Fujiwara-dono.

She heard a murmur, and looked back at Youko-sama.

Sei knelt at her side and put an arm about her. "Shimako –"

"I think she's all right, Sei..." Shimako felt tired. Not as thoroughly exhausted as she'd felt after working on Katsuko-neko, but unquestionably drained.

Sachiko-sama knelt at Youko-sama's other side, and put a hand on her head. She frowned. "Yes... I can still see the places where she was damaged, but... only just. It's fading... gone."

"Gone?" said Sei anxiously.

"She's all right." Sachiko-sama looked Shimako in the eye and smiled one of her rare, delightful smiles. "Good work, Shimako-san."

Shimako sighed with relief.

They were all aware of a shadow, and looked up. Yumi-san's earth creature, immense, was kneeling at Youko-sama's feet.

* * *

They strolled past the lonely tree, and up the path to the ridge. They ended up looking out over the Scar, over the village of Gawagawa, over everyone. Hikaru hadn't been up here yet. She realized for the first time that the valley below, where she had been, where the village was, was the Scar everyone had been talking about. She looked at it, and wondered if what had been unleashed here eons ago, wounding the land, was at all akin to what had possessed her today? She shivered at the thought.

"You do know," said Fujiwara-dono, breaking the long silence, "that you can feel free to come to me with personal problems at any time?"

Oh, yes. She was in trouble... Hikaru knew that, of course, what Fujiwara-dono said, but had always felt herself to be much more Suga-sama's student. Suga-sama's approach fit much better with Hikaru's own idea of how things should be done. Suga-sama had more... had better... well, anyway, Hikaru _did _know that, and she nodded.

"I suppose it is inevitable that students will now and then ignore that, and keep their troubles inside them – boiling there, in fact, as they carefully stir the pot, until the trouble is hot and ready to serve up to everyone. And then, you see, it's my fault – anything that goes wrong in the Guild is my fault, that's what being in charge means – and it's no good whining about the unfairness, but I can't help but feel it's a _little _unfair, whenever I have to shoulder the blame for something that was going wrong as a carefully-kept secret. The things I _did _know about but didn't take seriously enough, or simply didn't do enough about, are different. But you and your little friends kept your little cabal completely out of my view."

"My friends –" Hikaru stared in horror.

"Kieko-kun and Yukari-kun. Oh, I know _now_. There was much matter for reflection, at the crossing of the paths. The main thing I still don't know is, where did you learn such a terrible spell?"

Hikaru clamped her mouth shut.

"Suga-san," Fujiwara-dono added, with no change in the tone of her voice.

Hikaru gasped, and stared at the elder. "Fujiwara-dono!"

"Once again, everything in the air told me. But looking back, it should have been obvious. Shonagon-sama has never shown much interest in you, and I know _I_ didn't teach it to you, and three take away two, as a very exceptionally wise man once taught me, leaves one. I fear you are everything Suga-san wanted to be when she was your age, and little can so interfere with our judgment as the sudden ghosts of our youth. Remember that, when you come to maturity."

Then Fujiwara-dono's grip on Hikaru's arm tightened, and the old woman added, gently, "That is, of course, assuming that you ever happen to reach maturity at all."

Hikaru knew better than to try to pull away, though she certainly wanted to. How tall Fujiwara-dono was; it had never really struck her before. "Fujiwara-dono, I didn't –"

"You didn't – what?"

Hikaru struggled miserably to find the words, and failed in the end.

"I am not so much concerned with what you didn't do as with what you did do. To increase your own power, you used a spell you knew to be forbidden. I know Suga-san quite well, and I am morally certain that she told you that, and that she told you the spell was only to be used in the direst emergency."

Hikaru could only nod. She knew Fujiwara-dono would see the lie, if she told it, and anyway she didn't want Suga-sama in trouble. She already didn't know how she was going to face her.

"And you used this spell for a specific, ghastly purpose: to avenge yourself on Satou Sei-san, for some imagined slight. Or perhaps even for a real slight, but at all events, the punishment you chose was distinctly out of proportion to whatever it was, I'm sure. Murder can only be plausibly justified in return for murder, and I don't believe that Satou-san had killed you at any time.

"And then the spell got out of control, and the punishment would have been even worse. You would have punished _everyone else_ for whatever it was Satou-san did."

Nod.

"A young woman who has worked herself sometimes to exhaustion for the sake of this Guild and all of you in it – a young woman who is the prop of my old age and one of the finest sorceresses I have ever trained in one hundred years, lies now in danger of death because of your little prank."

Hikaru's bitterness and hatred for Mizuno-sama and Satou-sama seethed inside her, but mingled with shame and regret – other people don't see our enemies as we see them; why should we expect them to? – and she couldn't speak. She knew that nothing coherent would come out of her mouth.

"And, to cap it all, is your incompetence. I do _not _count stupidity as one of your faults. Not a bit. You _knew_, if you thought about it at all, that that spell might be too much for you. You have heard repeated warnings from us instructors against using spells too advanced for you, and I believe that, as a Dragon of the Molting Cranes, you have been with the Guild long enough to know that we instructors say things for other reasons than because we simply dread silence. And you used the spell anyway, and, as a child might have predicted, it got out of your control. You nearly killed your little friends. You nearly killed many others. You endangered, not only the Guild, but the good villagers of Gawagawa, who are our hosts.

"And in the end, the result was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your enemy, whom you so wished to humiliate and defeat, broke your spell – almost effortlessly – I must ask her how she did that – and all you did to her in the end was give her an opportunity to look very much the hero in front of all the Guild. _And she saved your life._ Granted she would have killed you a moment later if Ogasawara-san had not stopped her. Yet she did relent. 'For now'... Yes. The person you wanted to humiliate and destroy got an opportunity to look amazing in front of all her fans, _and_ she saved your life. I couldn't have planned a better punishment for you if I'd put all my thought to it."

"What will be my punishment – Fujiwara-dono –"

"That rather depends on... now, this is your famula, is it not?"

Sadako-chan was running up the path towards them. She made courtesy first to Hikaru – "Mistress" – then to Fujiwara-dono, saying, "Please, Fujiwara-dono, Sachiko-sama sends me to tell you that Mizuno-sama is conscious and it seems she will do very well, but she should rest for the remainder of the day."

"That answers my most important question. Thank you, Sadako-kun..." Without actually saying so, Fujiwara-dono gave Sadako-chan to understand, mostly with her eyebrows, that she should be elsewhere. Sadako-chan moved back toward the crossing of the paths so far as to be out of earshot, but no farther. Fujiwara-dono looked, taking note of this, nodded as though it confirmed something, and turned her head back to regard the young woman whose arm she still held, a young woman who hated to show weakness in front of anyone, but could not stop trembling.

"Your punishment... is something I will have to think about. For some time. You should refrain from pestering me to know my mind on it. Look on the waiting period as part of your punishment, if you like. There are also punishments I do not impose; you have brought them on yourself. The whole Guild knows now what you are, and the story of how you tried to attack an unconscious sorceress to avenge a petty slight is unlikely to die a quiet death. You have lost your old friends, I should imagine, and you will have difficulty making new ones; no-one will listen to your nonsense. You have thoroughly assassinated your own character. Can you build a new one? Can you set aside your overblown self-consequence, and find a thing to say that is worth hearing?... Your success or failure in these matters will also have some bearing on your punishment, you see, so I should get to work on them if I were you, eh?"

Fujiwara-dono turned and walked back down towards the village.

Hikaru was crying. She was controlling herself, as she had been taught from infancy, and making no noise as she cried.

Sadako-chan came up to her in her usual shy way, half-hearted movements and cast-down eyes. It always annoyed Hikaru, at least when she noticed it. "Mistress –"

"Leave me alone," Hikaru managed to say. She turned and walked away, along the ridge, in the opposite direction from the shrine, looking out over the Scar, the wound in the earth. She needed to look for a while on something that wasn't her fault...

Sadako hesitated for a moment, then followed. She would keep her distance, but she would stay close in case her Mistress needed anything. Her biggest worry was that Mistress might try to do herself an injury. _Unlikely. Oe-sama? Unlikely._ Still. Someone had to be around to prevent that just in case, and it seemed that everyone else had washed their hands of Oe-sama. She couldn't exactly blame them, but she certainly wasn't about to follow their example. Oe-sama wasn't the mistress Sadako had hoped for, but she was the one Sadako had, and she wasn't likely to be able to pluck a fresh one off a tree anytime soon...

* * *

The headman of Gawagawa stood and looked at a rare pleasure: a terrifying giant monster who _hadn't_ come from the nether hells to destroy everything he had worked for. This was a friendly terrifying giant monster. Some of the village folk still seemed to be suspicious of it, but most were chatting to one another about it happily, some getting close and stroking its legs. It was perfectly agreeable to anything. It was walking slowly and carefully about, there at the crossing of the paths, and letting children ride its massive shoulders. Haru-chan was one of them. Haru-chan was talking happily into its ear, and the earthen monster even seemed to be listening and nodding its big head.

"That is a most interesting young person you have there, Ryu-san," said a voice at his shoulder.

He turned his head and beheld one of the few people he knew who was tall enough to be a voice at his shoulder.

"I know it, Akiko-san," said he, looking her straight in the eye. "But what do _you_ think is interesting about Haru-chan?"

"She, or he, appears to be neither male nor female," Akiko-san went on. "I was thinking, with talent such as she seems to possess, I ought to convince her to join the Guild – and then it struck me that he might be offended by the offer."

"So you don't know which to call her, neither."

"No idea, I'm afraid. What does he say, or she?"

He was prepared to be stubborn about this. "She says, maybe he don't have to be one nor t'other."

"Oh?" Akiko-san seemed very pleased to hear this. _She was always a strange one,_ he thought, scratching at his old burn a bit. "It might be a bit difficult to fit her into routine village life," she added, "if she chooses to be neither man nor woman."

"There isn't much routine about _this_ village, damn it," he countered passionately.

"True enough. But how will you deal with the question? It's bound to come up."

He sighed. "When Haru-chan is done growing up, Haru-chan will decide what Haru-chan wants to be."

"And should she choose to be neither?"

"We'll make a place for Haru-chan," he said firmly. "One way or another."

"Really?... well, I can hardly do less."

He looked at her with eyebrows raised.

* * *

In their bedroll much later, Sachiko said to Yumi, "It seems that your earth-creature, or water-creature, cannot fail to be a social success wherever he goes."

"He likes them," Yumi said, from the crook of Sachiko's right arm, where she had pillowed her dear head. "They have their faults I suppose, as most do, but they are brave and good people, and he likes that, and doesn't care about the rest of it. He's very simple, really."

_Simple and secret,_ Sachiko thought, but didn't say. There was much that was still mysterious about Yumi's creature, but she had no doubt they'd find out in time... "You did very well today, Yumi. I was impressed. So were a good many people."

"Eriko-sama is a good teacher, Mistress. So are you."

"But yours is the talent, Yumi."

Yumi was silent. It was dark, but Sachiko had an idea of what she would see if there were light: Yumi blushing, smiling a little, disbelieving.

"I'm going to teach you more, Yumi. You will be a great sorceress, one day. We will travel together, and learn together. I want..." _I want to teach you everything I know. I want to work with you, to help and protect the people and things that need it. I want to go to sleep with you at night, and wake up with you in the morning. I want to always be with you._ Sachiko could say all that, but maybe Yumi didn't need to hear it right now. Her breathing had evened out. Sachiko's own eyes were closing; it had been a long day. _Never mind what I want,_ she thought. _It's what Yumi needs that counts._

"I need you, Mistress."

That had been very soft and quiet. Almost inaudible. For a moment Sachiko thought maybe Yumi was talking in her sleep. Then she felt Yumi swallowing, and knew Yumi was awake.

She pulled Yumi close and kissed her forehead. Yumi sighed and nestled against her. "You have me," Sachiko said, as softly as Yumi had spoken. "You have me."

And they waited together, comfortably, for sleep to come.

* * *

Youko was dozing. She wasn't exactly asleep, but she would go through periods when she wasn't up to dealing with her surroundings. She had been far away, down a path through trees, and there was a clearing, and it had been raining. She had been thinking of going further on that path, and for some reason, the rain had seemed to want her to, but she had been resisting – locked her knees and stood there in the rain. She had forgotten something back there, something important, and she wanted to at least remember what it was before...

She roused from this latest doze to find herself in her tent, in her sleeping roll. Night had fallen. She had mostly wakened before to find it still daylight, and Touko kneeling at her side – and she had been glad of the girl, and surpised to find that she could be so nurturing – but now Touko was lying in the bedroll next to hers, asleep, judging by the snores, and Fujiwara-dono had taken Touko's place.

Youko closed her eyes again. She felt completely non-sleepy, suddenly, but she was sure Fujiwara-dono was going to rebuke her, and she was bracing herself.

"How are you feeling?" Fujiwara-dono asked her gently.

"All right. A bit tired." She hesitated. "Are you angry with me, Fujiwara-dono?"

Fujiwara-dono's brow knotted a little. "Angry? No, no. I'm a little disappointed, Mizuno-san, but not really surprised. You felt you had to protect Satou-san, of course; she was in a vulnerable state. You could have sent someone to find me, perhaps, but if there was no-one available..."

This was pointed. Youko sighed. "Touko was off spending time with a friend of hers. I'd given her permission."

"Touko often seems to be off doing something else. The girl is running a bit wild. She should be with you, you should be teaching her."

"I teach her things, Fujiwara-dono. She was with me this morning when I met with the council..."

"I am sure you do."

Youko closed her eyes yet again. "Maybe I don't teach her enough."

"Even when you are not teaching her, it is her duty to serve her mistress, standing at her side, supporting her silently. Even when you are not teaching her, she should be with you, to see how you comport yourself, to learn from your example how a sorceress behaves... Never mind. You are still recuperating, and we have to travel in the morning. I should let you rest."

"You're not... mad at me for getting beaten?"

"Hikaru used a spell that was too much for you, but it was too much for her too. I think it might have been too much for many sorceresses, many of them older and more experienced than yourself..."

There was a pause, and then Youko pointed out the obvious: "It wasn't too much for Sei."

"Well, no. But you know, Satou-san has been with us for a few years now, and I never have figured out exactly where she fits, in the Guild prospectus. We call her a Dragon, a Dragon-by-courtesy you might say, because she fits in well with other Dragons – blooded, knowledgeable, though still young. But she brings her own magic with her, taught her in foreign parts, and she is incalculable. Watching her, and training her as I could, have been fascinating." Youko was just able to make out Fujiwara-dono's face in the moonlight coming in through the flap of the tent, and could see the fascination there. "With some things she seems to be a bit fumble-fingered, and you don't worry because she laughs at her own ineptitude and vows to do better – and she does, steadily. And sometimes, like today, she does things that remind me that I have never really been able to take full measure of her power. She didn't truly grapple with the full force of Oe-kun's borrowed power; she rather dealt with its effects, and took advantage of the weakness in Oe-kun's defense to reach in and simply snap that power at the source, like snapping a twig off a tree. I don't know exactly what went wrong with that spell, and I don't know exactly how much power it took to break the spell, but it was clearly a lot. I asked her about it afterward, and Satou-san seemed surprised that I thought it odd. She herself is unclear on exactly how much power she has, and unless I fool myself, there seems to be something almost deliberate in her unknowing. As if she's hiding something from herself..."

"Like Yumi?"

"Yes! Yes. Very like our Yumi-kun. Well-spotted..."

Another pause.

"You could have stopped Hikaru-san, I'm sure, Fujiwara-dono. So maybe Sei is just as powerful as you? or at least no more so?"

"I could have, once, perhaps. Not sure. I couldn't today."

Youko's eyes went wide open at this. She looked at Fujiwara-dono in amazement. "What?..."

"I tried," Fujiwara-dono clarified. "I think... I think my powers are fading, Mizuno-san."

Youko stared at her teacher, stunned. She couldn't think of one thing to say.

"I arrived just before Satou-san's return from her bargaining session with the god of the East Wind – which was successful, by the way, and that was a good instinct on your part – and I tried to stop Hikaru-kun myself. My spell was ineffectual. Worse, I felt that the energy coming from myself was less than it should have been."

"Fujiwara-dono – Fujiwara-dono, you're _sure _–"

"There is no possibility of a mistake."

Silence.

"What are we going to do?"

"That needs discussion." Fujiwara-dono sighed. "But you should rest now, Mizuno-san. Tomorrow I will need to talk with you, and Satou-san, and Torii-san. I will need your help, the three of you. Perhaps... perhaps Ogasawara-san as well."

Youko looked at Fujiwara-dono sharply. A -san instead of a -kun was significant, here.

"She has matured rapidly since she took Yumi-kun on," Fujiwara-dono explained. "And today she showed great courage and authority. Now we have reached a crisis, and I need her. I need all of you."

Youko thought about it a moment, and then she reached out and covered one of Fujiwara-dono's hands with one of her own. "I'm sure we'll all do whatever we can to help, Fujiwara-dono."

Fujiwara-dono smiled. There was pain and weariness in her, but the smile was genuine. "You are a great comfort to me, Mizuno-san."

They stayed like that a while.


End file.
